Needed
by Abra d'Inverno
Summary: Faith and Spike need Wesley's help and they bring him back to life. It's nine years after his death, and some things have changed, while others stayed the same. Apocalypse averted, Wes and Faith grow closer together. WesFaith pairing, FaithSpike friendshi
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters or the setting of the story. All things I borrowed from the Buffyverse are a creation of and belong to Joss Whedon.

**Timeline **– Post Chosen (Buffy, the Vampire Slayer), post NFA (Angel)

This is my first attempt of a BtVS/Ats fic - Wes/Faith -romantic pairing, Faith/Spike friendship.

Timeline: about 9years after "Not Fading Away", 10 after "Chosen"

**Beta:** Dave, thank you!

* * *

Chapter 1 - Resurrection

Wesley could feel life leaving him. He fought the all-encompassing numbness and looked through blurred eyes at Fred's beloved face.

"I love you," he whispered.

And suddenly, the world seemed to hiccup.

"I love you," he heard himself repeating the phrase.

He didn't have time to notice that the pain, the numbness and the haze were gone when a familiar voice replied.

"Very flattering, mate, but I don't swing that way."

"Spike?" Wesley wondered aloud.

The peroxide vampire had huge grin on his face.

"I'll be buggered! It worked!" he exclaimed.

"What happened? Where am I?" Wesley inquired, but he didn't wait for answers. "We have to go to the hotel. The others are waiting for us."

Wesley started to walk toward Spike when he hit an invisible barrier.

"What…? " He began, but his voice trailed off as he took in the surroundings.

"A little late for that, mate."

The vampire's unusually serious voice caused Wesley to look up from the markings on the floor. His mind worked with lightning speed.

"You conjured me. From the dead. I was dead. Who else survived apart from you? How much time has it passed?"

"More than nine years. Not sure if any of them survived."

Wesley closed his eyes but he could never escape reality. It was his skill and his curse.

"What do you mean you're not sure?"

"Portals. That's how it all ended. Lorne came back. He opened several portals at once. The monsters were torn apart between them. I held on and when it was all over everyone else was gone."

"So they're alive. In other dimensions."

The vampire shrugged, and just for a second he looked very old.

"Nine years. Haven't you looked for them?"

"It's not like I can do a google search to locate them."

Wesley's shoulders slumped. He did not want ask the next question. So he asked another one.

"You think you still need the circle of containment?"

Spike looked past his shoulder.

"We weren't one hundred percent what we'd bring over."

"We?" Wesley asked and turned around.

Spike started to kick off the redbrick dust to break the circle but Wesley didn't move away. He looked at Faith who was aiming a crossbow towards him although she didn't seem poised to shoot.

"Hello, Wesley."

Her voice sounded scratchy as if she hadn't spoken for hours.

"Faith," he acknowledged her and knew he could no longer postpone the question. "Why have you brought me back?"

"We could use your help," she answered in a mundane tone.

Wesley was still staring at Faith when Spike patted his shoulder genially.

"Major trouble, impending apocalypse, you know the drill," he informed Wesley. "Fancy a pint?"

Faith was still holding his gaze steadily. Wesley wondered what she was waiting for to put away the weapon. She had obviously made her agreement known to Spike before he broke the circle of containment.

"Scotch," Wesley demanded.

"This way," she said, and turned around to lead the way.

"You have to bring me up to speed. Nine years is a long time to be dead."

"We've prepared a file for you. We're very thorough nowadays. But we can give you the highlights while you get your liquid lunch," Spike said.

The three of them left the large hall, went through a long corridor and entered a kitchen. The two men settled around the table while Faith busied herself with some dishes. Spike poured Wesley a triple whiskey and opened himself a beer.

"After our big anti Wolfram and Hart crusade, I wandered around for a while, ran into Faith and we sort of stuck together. We were relic hunters-slash-demon fighters, but we were making too much money, so we decided to do something less lucrative. We got ourselves saddled with a bunch of Slayers. That was about six years ago. We settled here and took over training Slayers."

The constant use of "we" was not lost on Wesley, but he wasn't quite ready to go there yet.

"Slayers?" Wesley raised an eyebrow.

"Yep. The whole 'in every generation there is only one Slayer' concept is passé, remember?"

"Watchers' Council?"

"We're sort of cooperating, but we parted ways some years ago."

"They're trying to keep up the same old rules even though the game has changed," Faith informed him from across the room.

"A bunch of miserable sods who have their heads up their asses," Spike contributed.

"Language!"

Wesley's eyebrow shot up again. He looked at her in shock. Had Faith just censored Spike's foul mouth?

"He's not even here," Spike complained.

Faith put the plate of sandwiches in front of Wesley. His hand hovered between the glass of whiskey and the plate, but Faith's glare made him reach for a sandwich.

"Who isn't here?"

"You'd better read this," Spike said, pushing a folder in front of Wesley.

He liked files. Files were good. No matter what horrors they described, the mere fact that they were captured on paper was comforting. And horrors he found. Another Hellmouth. More prophecies. Impending doom. Quasi-unkillable monster. As Spike had said "the drill".

"I can't help wondering why you needed me. You survived for six years on a Hellmouth. You must have faced threats like this at least once a year."

"Because this big bad dude can only be killed by magical fire."

"Yes, I read that. But why me? Any witch or wizard can do it," he insisted.

They exchanged another silent look and Wesley couldn't help feeling left out. They had shared almost a decade of fighting side-by-side; this kind of bond was only to be expected. He wondered if they were sharing anything else. With Spike's track record it was almost a foregone conclusion. He was surprised that, even through the thickness of his misery, he could be jealous of anyone who had this level of intimacy.

"We didn't have much of a choice in the matter. Things have changed."

"After our glorious showdown with Wolfram and Hart, most of the bad guys started fighting each other in order to climb to the bottom," Spike continued her explanation. "Our side sort of relaxed. You know what the venerable Council of Watchers does first when a demon surfaces? They inform two other demons about it and sit back watching the carnage."

"Divide and conquer. What's wrong with that?"

Faith and Spike did that shared looked over him again. He was finding it more and more annoying.

"You're still a Watcher, man," Spike said. "Don't you get it yet? It's always about the fight, not just the result."

"Civilians get killed sometimes. And lately there are less and less warring factions. The evil got structured again. Maybe not Wolfram and Hart organized, but it's not the wild west anymore," Faith concluded.

"You're not gonna wuss on us now, are ya?"

"Of course not," he said softly.

Wesley took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. Everything was still hurting. He didn't need to check the scar on his neck. He could feel the extra tightness of the skin around that area. All his injuries were present, except the knife Vail had thrust in his gut.

"Where are the Slayers?"

"They're in school. They should get back any minute."

"We had to use the long version of the ritual since we didn't have a magician to do it," Spike said.

"You do now," Wesley said, surprising himself as much as them.

He took a bite out of his sandwich to cover his embarrassment. The taste of it shocked him. It was his favorite combination. He lifted the top loaf of bread and looked at its contents. It was perfect. He hadn't had one in about ten years. He raised his eyes, trying to understand something from Faith's expression, but the young woman had her back to him. Wesley made a conscious effort to find clues whether he was dreaming what not. It was real. Strange as could be, but real. He debated silently if he should ask Faith how she knew, but decided against it. He stood up and addressed them.

"Where are the books? I want to do some research."

Spike opened his mouth to answer him but the arrival of a boy interrupted him.

"Mom, Spike, I was picked up for the baseball team!"

The boy stopped dead in his tracks noticing the stranger. Wesley registered his words at the same time as he took in the change in his behavior. The enthusiasm had disappeared instantly, being replaced by wary expression that made him seem a lot more mature.

"This is Wesley Wyndham-Pryce. He was my Watcher," Faith said.

The boy walked toward the Wesley and extended his hand.

"Mr. Wyndham-Pryce, I am Alexander Lehane. Everyone calls me Alex."

"Wesley," he managed to say and shook his hand.

"May I be excused?" Alex asked his mother. "I have a lot of homework to do."

"Sure thing, hon. I'll call you when dinner's ready," Faith told him.

Wesley's gaze flickered between mother and son. The boy was obviously used to leaving adults to discuss business in private. Faith's son. His brain started spewing questions and theories with dazzling rapidity. The shadow of fear in Faith's eyes interrupted the flood. For once, she hadn't looked at Spike for comfort or advice.

* * *

_to be continued...__  
_  



	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters or the setting of the story. All things I borrowed from the Buffyverse are a creation of and belong to Joss Whedon.

**Timeline**: about 9years after "Not Fading Away" ("Angel"), 10 after "Chosen" (BtVS)

**Beta:** Dave, thank you!  


* * *

**Chapter 2**

"Your son..." he said, looking at Faith.

If he didn't look in her eyes, he could swear she looked exactly as she did the last time he had seen her in LA, leaving the Hyperion hotel with Willow. If he looked in her eyes though, Wesley could see the mark of the nine long years. He turned his gaze to Spike in a wordless inquiry.

"No, mate. Vampires can't have children, remember?"

"There is a precedent," Wesley said, painfully aware that neither of them remembered Connor and the events surrounding his birth. The memories of that dark time brought forth a new wave of pain. He took the bottle of scotch and the file and stood up.

"Books," he demanded.

He followed Spike, unable to look at Faith again.

Half a bottle of scotch and a dozen books later, Wes decided he needed a break. He took off his glasses and began to pace the floor, a little unsteadily. Eventually, Spike put down the comic book he was reading and looked at him.

"Who is the father?"

"Donno," Spike answered.

"The subject never came up in nine years?"

"It came up. Never got an answer. Mind you, I knew better than to push it."

"Tell me what you know," Wesley said.

"She was about five months pregnant when we met. And alone."

"So you stuck around for all these years... You did always have a weakness for Slayers."

"Wouldn't call is a weakness. I only killed two."

"And had sex with other two."

"No. Not with Faith."

"Knowing the two of you, I find it difficult to believe that."

Wesley went back to the desk to pour himself another drink.

"You should slow down with the fire-water, mate. Faith doesn't like it."

Wesley snorted derisively, and took another swig of whiskey.

"I know you've lost nine years, but you should try to get yourself together. This isn't the well-oiled machine good ol' Wolfram and Hart used to be. We can't look after you if you stay in crazy mode."

"Fred died last week. Illyria was beaten to a pulp yesterday. I may never be able to get it together!"

"Try. We didn't bring you back because we needed another problem," Spike said, unwilling to accept the other man's pain.

Wesley didn't have enough energy to reply. He took another gulp of scotch, willing himself to get drunk faster.

"I'm gonna bring you dinner here. The girls shouldn't see you like this."

Spike closed the door carefully behind him. Wesley half expected to hear the key turn in the lock. It didn't. They were still counting on his common sense. He went back to the books and the bottle waiting for him on the desk.

When the door opened again, twenty minutes later, it was Faith, not Spike, bringing him dinner.

"Put it over there, please," he said pointing at the coffee table by the couch, where Spike had left his comic book.

She put the tray squarely in front of him. Wesley gathered the papers hurriedly and stacked them away from the food.

"Thank you," he said.

She was still there. He looked up expecting her to leave soon.

"You've been through a lot. Recently, for you. I'm going to give you time to adjust, but the drinking stops tonight."

"You know what? I didn't ask you to bring me back. I'm going to help you because I have nothing else to do, but don't start thinking I owe you anything. You either take what I can offer, or you can always strap me to a chair again."

The Faith he had known would've reacted. Anger. Guilt. Something.

"Grieve all you want. Just don't drink anymore," she said levelly.

He was already too wound up to resist provoking her.

"Fuck off."

"Also, you will mind your language," she updated the house rules for him.

"You must be joking. You have the foulest mouth I ever…"

"Things change," she interrupted him.

"Oh, yes. Forgot all about that. You're reformed now. Calm and disciplined. You sure house-trained that pup of yours."

The next thing he knew, the desk was crushing him against the wall. Faith leaned over the desk she had just pushed violently into him.

"If you don't behave, I'll be the one to put you down like a rabid dog. Even through your alcoholic stupor you should be able to see that I mean it."

An almost wistful look passed over Wesley's face. He found the oblivion of death a sweet alternative to the all consuming pain. The brown eyes burning into his were not Fred's. He wished they were. If wishes were horses... He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, Faith was gone. Spike was lounging casually on the couch, eyeing Wesley with a self satisfied grin.

"What?" Wesley growled.

"Nothing. It's just good to be right."

Wesley pushed the desk away with difficulty. He coughed when he tried to take a deep breath.

"What are you talking about?"

"You and Faith. She's been apathetic for months, and here you come, not ten minutes back, and she's on fire again."

"You brought me back to make her angry?"

"We brought you back for a lot of reasons. Getting her angry again was mine."

"I thought you cared about her."

"That I do, Percy-boy. I try to keep her alive and sane. For that, I need her to get her anger back. And from what I know, you're the one guy who managed to push her buttons. I know what you did to her during those dark L.A. days."

Wesley could hear the change of tone in the last words. The way he had treated Faith during the days of the Beast was just another coat of darkness over his soul.

"You know, I'm really tired right now. If there was a threat somewhere in that exposition, could we have it out at some later time?"

"Like, say, when you're sober?"

"Yes. Like then."

Spike nodded, and left.

* * *

_Later that evening_

Wesley was asleep at his the desk when a particularly vivid nightmare woke him up. He let the strange new reality seep into him. Somehow, he felt he was still inside a horrible dream. He realized he was sobering up, and decided to remedy the unfortunate occurrence. He found his way hesitantly downstairs.

The kitchen was mercifully empty. He foraged sloppily through the cupboards, but could not find any strong liquor. He sighed and went to the fridge. Spike had always seemed willing to live without blood rather than without beer. He took a bottle out of a six-pack. When he closed the fridge, he saw Faith leaning against the doorframe. He couldn't help but smile. He had seen and imagined Faith in many ways – screaming in pain had been among his favorites when he still had nightmares about the torture she had inflicted on him - but he had never ever imagined her looking at him with a disappointed parental expression.

"Lighten up, Faith!" he said, slurring the words.

He saw her reaction even in the dim moonlight that came through the kitchen window. He wondered how much he sounded like her alcoholic mother. He could see her body stiffening in an attempt to contain the tidal wave of rage that was rising inside her. He had mastered self discipline when he was a boy – Alex's age, a little voice whispered the comparison in his mind. He had had years of practice under the harsh scrutiny of his father and his teachers to make sure he could conceal such tell-tale signs of his reactions.

"Feeling a bit homicidal, are you?" he taunted.

"Don't make me hurt you."

At least she could keep her voice level; he appreciated her performance.

"Why not? You seemed to enjoy it so last time."

"We both know you can provoke me. I'm asking you not to."

This time pain and weariness came through in her voice and reached him.

"You should not have brought me back," he whispered dejectedly.

He put the beer on the table and shuffled out of the room.

* * *

_To be continued…_


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters or the setting of the story. All things I borrowed from the Buffyverse are a creation of and belong to Joss Whedon.

**Timeline**: about 9years after "Not Fading Away" ("Angel"), 10 after "Chosen" (BtVS)

**Beta:** Dave, thank you!

* * *

Chapter 3

* * *

It was long past midnight, and Wesley needed another drink. He looked at the empty bottle on the desk. Why wasn't Spike there to make a nuisance of himself? Why wasn't Faith there to glare at him? He needed something to take his mind off… off... everything.

Why had they left him alone?

He walked slowly to the bookshelves, hoping against hope that he would find something engrossing to read. He knew why they had left him alone.

He wondered if they were somewhere close, so that Spike could keep tabs on him with his preternatural senses. He imagined the vampire giving Faith a play-by-play account of his movements. _'He opened a book. He stood up. He went to the bookshelf. He tripped. He took three books off the shelf, no, four books, no, three. He's gone back to the desk. He threw the bottle in the wastepaper basket. He opened another book. He's not doing anything interesting, Faith! Are we going to do this all night? I want to go out. Hey, wait, he's… he's… he's OPENED ANOTHER BOOK. Faith, I'm bored out of my mind!'_

His mouth formed a smirk of self loathing as reality reasserted itself. They were not following his every move. They had left him alone for a reason. They were letting him decide which way he wanted to go with his afterlife; uselessly wallowing in grief, or tormented and guilt ridden, but marginally useful, and based on the way he looked in the morning, they'd take him in, or dispatch him back into the nothingness from which they had conjured him. That was the way he would handle the situation. Out of all the people he had worked with, Spike and Faith were the ones more likely to see things as clearly as that.

Maybe it was the three hours of sleeping with his face on the books, but he didn't find the oblivion of death as attractive as he had a few hours earlier.

They probably needed him. Raising him from the dead certainly seemed to support that theory. Needed. He was needed again. Not wanted. Not even liked. Just needed. He had come a long way since the Sunnydale days. At least he was needed now.

They probably expected him to act as Watcher for the girls. He knew he could do a better job this time around. He had done such a rotten job with Faith; it was a testament to Angel's dogged savior complex that she had come back from the dark.

He could feel dawn approaching. He took another look through the file Spike and Faith had prepared for him. Apart from the 'pending Apocalypse' part, it contained information about the three young Slayers. It was so like them to take in broken Slayers. The second souled vampire and the second string Slayer were perfect parents for incomplete Slayers. Somehow, that seemed appropriate for him. The sort of team he could belong to. He made his way to the couch, lay down on it and covered himself with the blanket Spike had brought earlier.

Wesley fell asleep thinking about the people who needed him.

* * *

_The next morning_

He made up his mind to revert to a previous personality. He considered and rejected the tweed clad Watcher persona, the rogue demon hunter, the 'Pryce, here' phase - Lilah's Wes, the brain of Angel Investigations, Wolfram and Hart's Head of Research and Development - Fred's Wesley. He decided to stop at the man he had been during those strangely happy few weeks when Angel had fired his staff. The time he had spent with Cordelia, Gunn and Virginia had been by no means boring, but he hadn't experienced great loss or great happiness. He wished he could keep his afterlife within those parameters. Besides, he couldn't possibly have the emotional resources to care about anyone ever again.

He walked purposefully downstairs, completely clothed in his chosen identity.

"Good morning," Wesley greeted the kitchen assembly.

Faith, Spike, the three young Slayers and Alex answered him with various degrees of enthusiasm from their places around the breakfast table. Wesley sat on the empty chair between Spike and Alex, and reached for a piece of toast. He was doing his best to fight the rising nausea. He could see Faith watching him for signs of the massive hangover she knew he could not have possibly escaped.

"I'm Eliana. That's Grace, and that's Miranda. You must be Wesley Wyndham-Pryce. When are we getting the whole story?"

Wesley smiled. He was expecting Faith to assert her status as authority figure, but she didn't say anything.

"Nice to meet you all. Ask me anything you want to know," he said, and took a bite of toast.

"What are you? You don't seem to be a ghost or a zombie. You were dead, right?" Eliana asked.

"Yes, I was. As far as I can tell, I'm human, exactly as I was before my death."

"How come?"

"Magic," he said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Well, that's not very illuminating," Miranda interjected. "We thought you were the guy who knew everything."

He shrugged again and took a drink of orange juice. It tasted like bile in his mouth but he made sure he didn't let it show. He didn't have to look at Faith to know that she was enjoying his discomfort.

"So, you were a Watcher? Before the Council blew up ten years ago?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to be our Watcher?" Eliana asked.

"We'll see," he answered noncommittally. He had to have a talk with Faith and Spike before making any plans or promises.

"But you'll help with our training?"

"Probably."

"You don't look like much of a fighter," Grace commented. "Could you stake Spike?"

Spike snorted.

"If I have to," Wesley answered calmly.

He was all too familiar with the constant threat of working side by side with a vampire. Angel had once told him it was a good thing that he was willing to stake him if he reverted to his evil alter ego. This had been one of the first and most important proofs of confidence Angel had ever showed him.

"Oh, dream on, Percy!" Spike retorted.

"Could you hand me the jam, please," Wesley asked Alex.

The boy obliged every bit as controlled and courteous as Wesley remembered himself to be at that age. He made the effort not to stare at the child. He had read Faith's medical file when she had been his Slayer, and he remembered clearly that it said she could not have children. Who was that boy? He stacked the mystery away for later snooping.

"Thank you," he said when Alex handed him the jar.

He was aware of Faith suddenly tensing up at this brief interaction. Something was definitely strange.

Faith accompanied Alex and the girls outside to wait for the school bus, leaving Wesley and Spike alone in the kitchen. Wesley stood up and began to clear up the table.

"It's Faith's week," the vampire said, as an explanation for not helping.

There it was again. The routine of an established couple. He went on washing the dishes, waiting for Faith's return. It was time to have the talk.

"Let's go in the office," Faith said poking her head in the kitchen.

Wesley wiped his hands and followed Spike. They went to an office at the top of the stairs that linked the first floor with the large hall where they had resurrected Wesley. He took in more details at this second glance, and guessed that the space served mostly as training room. He climbed the stairs laboriously, fighting exhaustion, nausea and stores of bad memories.

Faith was sitting at the computer and Spike had bent over to read what she was showing him. They looked up when he finally arrived. They had their heads together when they were reading the information that was flooding the computer screen, and now they were almost cheek to cheek looking at him.

They appeared so comfortable with each other that it grated on Wesley's battered soul. The only thing missing from the family picture was Alex. The boy had brown hair, like Faith, and blue eyes, like Spike. The hypothesis that he was their son was going against a double impossibility: she was barren, and he was a vampire. Still, Wesley had seen, hell, he had done far stranger things to discount it.

Spike's hair seemed to glow in the morning sun.

"Necro-tempered glass," Wesley commented. "You're doing well."

"We were very successful demon-hunters," Spike answered.

"Are you staying to help us, Wes?" Faith asked abruptly.

He looked at her, disbelieving.

"Where else could I go?"

"Watchers' Council, Buffy, your parents, anywhere but here..." she said.

"Do any of them need me?" he asked wryly.

"I'm sure they could use you," she said.

"What's going on, Faith? After messing with the immutable laws of nature to get me here, you act like you want me to leave."

"Here's the thing, mate. We need your help, but the catch is we're at odds with pretty much everyone else. When I said we parted ways with the Council, I didn't give you the clearest picture. They hate us. They only talk to us because the Summers' girls trust us. Sort of."

"The point is... we have to be sure you won't run to them. We're isolated as it is."

"I don't want to sound stupid, but you're not evil by any chance, are you?" Wesley asked, only partly joking.

They smiled, but they were taking an uncomfortably long time to answer.

"Riiiight?"

"We don't think we're evil. The Council on the other hand... Well, they may have a different opinion."

"And they still let you guard a Hellmouth?"

"Oh, they check up on us regularly, but as long as we keep down the Apocalypse count, they don't actively act against us."

"They did however manage to steer people away from us. No wiccas, no shamans, no access to Watchers' files, no Watchers, no books."

Wesley looked around the room. There were book laden shelves from floor to ceiling on the two largest walls of the room.

"We stole them," Spike said nonchalantly looking at the books.

"We have more contacts among demons than humans."

Wesley thought back at the file.

"And all this started because of the girls?" he asked, disbelieving.

"Yes. They found a way to measure Slayer strength, and the ones who were considered too weak were to be stripped of all Slayer abilities." Spike said, his voice lacking any trace of his usual flippancy.

"Like anyone could go back to being normal after seeing what's really out there," Faith added.

"And you two decided to do something about it?"

"Yes. And for the past six years we did the best we could. But things are changing. Something big's coming."

"Do you really think that no one will help you if something really bad happens?"

"They won't believe us. They never do. Last time there was a threat like this, we lost almost everyone. All the girls that were training with us, and Graham – Riley Finn's colleague in the Initiative, and..." Faith's voice broke.

Wesley saw Spike's hand disappear under Faith's hair. She seemed to relax under the familiar feel of the vampire's hand on her neck.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but the last Apocalypse I remember, I died."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but if you die this time, I'm bringing you back and kill you myself," Faith's voice had lost its frailty.

"I'll keep that in mind. Until then, what do you expect of me?"

"Help us teach the girls. Train them. Do whatever the fuck it takes to keep them alive."

Spike slapped her gently on the back of her head.

"You said the f-word!" he chided.

Faith elbowed him in the gut playfully.

"I want to read everything you've got about... everything," he said, interrupting their all too cozy interaction.

"This is all we have. You get reading 'til the girls come back. I have to get into town now. If you have any questions, ask Spike."

"Actually, I gotta catch up on my beauty sleep anyway. You can have the office all to yourself and I'll take questions later," Spike said, and was out the door before he could say anything.

* * *

Wesley felt a sudden pain in his stomach. He read two more chapters before he stopped to investigate. He realized it was hunger. He decided to look through one more file before going into the kitchen.

The drawer was full of files. He let his long fingers dance through them. He stopped when he saw a cover with no label. He took it out, on an impulse. All the papers were in Faith's hand writing.

_"My darling son, _

_If you read this letter it means I died before having the conversation I promised you since you were six. Even then, I had already lived many years over the life expectancy of a Slayer. My deepest regret is that I'm not with you anymore. You have been my light, my joy and my hope from the moment you came into my life. I love you so much, Alex. I love you more than I have even imagined possible before having you."_

Wesley slammed the file shut. That was not something he was supposed to have seen. He put it back exactly how it had been, knowing perfectly well that he was going to go back to it someday.

* * *

_To be continued…_


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters or the setting of the story. All things I borrowed from the Buffyverse are a creation of and belong to Joss Whedon.

**Timeline:**about 9years after "Not Fade Away" ("Angel"), 10 after "Chosen" (BtVS)

Beta: Dave

I had made a lot of mistakes the first time I posted this chapter and I appologize if they're still there after the do-over.

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Four **

* * *

Days and nights passed in an uninterrupted succession of problems. Wesley read, wrote, slept, ate, drank ("tea, thank you") and talked. He did research with the zeal of his days in the Angel-less "Angel Investigations". He drew up plans, made decisions, and only rarely accompanied Faith or Spike for fieldwork. He didn't trust his ability to protect the girls, so he never accompanied them on patrols. 

Demons kept coming out like gnats before a storm. It was the fourth night in a row when Faith and Spike had left without the girls. They could contact him at any moment

He was within reaching distance of any book in the library, always poised to look up whatever they were facing and feed them the information they needed. Wesley was in constant contact with Faith and Spike through long range transmitters. Neither of them had said anything in a while, and Wesley was finding it more and more difficult to concentrate on his lecture with the passing of every silent minute.

He changed the slide in the projector. The image of an ugly, ram-horned demon appeared on the screen.

"This is a Fyarl demon. They have an innate propensity for violence, backed up by considerable strength. From the account of a human who has been briefly turned into a Fyarl demon we know that they are virtually unable to control their violent tendencies. Indeed after only a few hours the human side was losing control over the Fyarl instincts. This is further proof of the theory that a being's form governs its behavior."

He touched the earpiece, willing it to come to life. The silence was worrying him more than the usual flood of snappy demands for information about whatever nightmarish creatures they were facing. He saw Alex watching him and tried to erase any trace of concern in his body language. The boy was coping remarkably well with the situation, but he had to keep intact the belief that his mother was unbreakable, and she would always return to him.

Wesley tried to conceal the depth of his relief when he heard Faith's voice.

"They've taken off. We're going after them. Gotta take them out before they reach the next town."

"All right," he said, sounding incredibly calm.

"We're gonna be out of range, so don't worry if you don't hear from us for a while."

"That's fine, Faith. Just don't forget to pick up some milk on your way back."

Wesley was desperately hanging on to such mundane details, trying to give their life a semblance of normality.

"They're going to be late," he informed his pupils.

"It's not something serious, right? They don't need backup or anything?" Eliana asked.

"No. They're just doing a sweep up. The Furlings are running away."

"It's getting worse every day."

This girl wasn't letting him get away so easily. He wished he could tell her that everything was going to be fine. They were looking at him with their eyes filled with all the questions they did not dare ask Faith or Spike. Wesley thought back at Mr. Giles and the Scoobies. At least he knew it could be done. There was a precedent for saving the world with only one Slayer, one vampire and a handful of kids. He owed them the truth.

"Yes, it is. And in a week or a month this is going to seem like a Hawaiian holiday. The prophecies speak of the coming darkness, and so far, we don't know how to fight it. When I read them last year, err... ten years ago, I took them to be about the time of the Beast. But that turned out to be... something else."

He refrained from thinking about that time. Connor. He wondered again if he should talk to the boy. He wasn't a boy anymore, Wesley made the time adjustment again. He had looked him up, Connor was alive and well. And alone. If Connor had started a family, Wesley's decision would be somewhat easier, but as things were unfolding, 'the Destroyer' would be a valuable addition to their team.

"How do you know this is it?" Eliana interrupted his thoughts. The girl had become the unofficial spokesperson of the group.

"I don't. I think it is, and I hope it's not. But that doesn't really matter. We have to do the job that's in front of us. You have to remember that nothing is unavoidable. Plans made by Gods, by entities so old they existed humans were around to remember them have been fought and thwarted by people like us. Mere humans."

"Yeah... like us. C'mon, what chances do we have? Faith is the only one with full Slayer strength. And both you and Spike have been known to die in Apocalypse-type events."

"We are strong. And we'll stay and fight. Not just because whatever it is, no matter how big or how bad, we don't have the luxury of running away. We'll make our stand, and we'll win because we are human, not in spite of it. You don't need a Slayer's or a vampire's strength to beat someone. Preparation, courage and intelligence can overtake brute strength. That's why you're staying here with me, and you're not out patrolling. We have to study the old texts and prepare ourselves for whatve..."

He stopped in mid-sentence when he heard the roof intruder alert go off. He had installed magical alerts all through the building and all around it. He put a finger to his lips, demanding silence.

"Weapons," he commanded the girls in a whisper, keeping his voice perfectly level.

He turned on the security cameras, and watched the screen carefully. He reached down and handed Alex a small, battered backpack, already prepared for emergency situations. It was Faith's from the pre-Spike days and it held everything from a stake and a flask of holy water for vampires, to a silver-bladed dagger for werewolves, plus a couple of power bars, a flask of scotch and band aids.

"Take this and go into the kitchen. Stay by the emergency exit through the closet. If you hear anyone but us coming toward the kitchen, run." He took the headphone out of his ear, and gave it to the boy. "Keep trying to call your mother. They're probably out of range, but keep trying."

The second alert was triggered just as Alex was going into the kitchen. He could hear the girls coming up the stairs as he looked through the images of the camera from the backyard. When he looked up from the monitor, they were in front of him, in full battle gear. He took a crossbow off the wall, and reached for the sword Grace was holding out for him.

"Eliana, Miranda, go to the roof. There are at least four demons. Grace, come with me. We have about a some more demons in the back. Keep your transmitters open. Let's go!"

He cursed again the large building. He had had a quick tour of the place and he had made mental notes on the many problems they would have in the eventuality of a siege. They were under siege now. He had to divide his forces and that was bad strategy, but he had no choice. Bloody hell, how had they survived in that place!

The two groups ran quietly in their preset directions. Wesley felt a rush of anticipation and fear rise through him. He was eager for the fight; staying in night after night and wondering if the others would come back was becoming unbearable. On the other hand, he had stayed out of the girls' combat training, and he could not help the concern that they wouldn't be up to the challenge.

"Let me know if they need any help," he whispered to Grace as they made their way downstairs.

She nodded, and changed her stake to the other hand. Her palms were probably sweaty. Not a good sign. Wesley's concern rose to a new level. The girls were supposed to learn to work as a team, but Wesley was feeling cut off. He wished he had his own transmitter. This wasn't bloody practice after all.

They were approaching the backdoors when they heard the muffled pounding on the wall. He motioned Grace to stay behind him, and picked up the pace. All of a sudden his year in Wolfram and Hart was gone, his death - never happened, his defeats - all gone. He was the man who had tackled a twenty-something feet tall fire-'breathing' demon with his bare hands, and just one friend by his side. He could almost feel Gunn next to him when he reached the crumbling wall.

When an arm punched through, he grabbed it and chopped it off. He signaled Grace to unlock the door and wait for him to get out first. The girl obeyed and Wesley ran passed her, determined to keep them out of the building. Once the alert was triggered, the holy water sprinklers were activated, and that insured that the vampires would be delayed, so he determined it was better to start thinning the attackers' numbers before they could even enter the building.

He plunged his sword in the demon while it was still howling in pain from losing its hand. Grace started fighting the demon running toward her.

"That's a Pargo. They can only be killed by drowning," he shouted at Grace before going toward the shapes moving fast through the darkness.

Some vampires were coming. He let Grace handle her demon as best she could, and fired his crossbow. When one of the shapes turned to dust, its companions roared and spread to go at him from different sides.

With the corner of his eye, Wesley saw Grace take a tranquilizer dart and stick it in the Pargo's neck, then dragged it to the sprinklers.

"The itty-bitty human thinks he can fight us," one of the vampires said, accompanying the words with an insane, evil laughter.

Wesley was in the zone. He attacked, parried, and feigned with an economy of movement. By the time Grace came back, he had dusted two of the five vampires. It was not enough. More shapes seemed to move in on them. They fought side by side, but the odds were against them.

"Are the girls done upstairs?" he asked.

His concentration wavered as he listened for her answer and one of the vamps managed to plunge his dagger in Wesley's shoulder. Wesley put the stake through his heart before he even felt the pain.

"Almost. They still have two demons," Grace said. "One," she corrected after listening her earpiece.

"Tell them to come here now," he told Grace. "I'll go there and take care of the last one."

In a matter of seconds, Miranda and Eliana were running outside the house.

"He's on the second floor," Miranda told Wesley as he ran by her back inside.

He ran into the house and up the stairs, already light-headed from the blood loss. There had been several times when his opponents had managed to cut him, but he hadn't bothered to look. His shirt felt heavy, soaked in his own blood, and he could feel it trickle down on his pants and his boots. When he reached the upper floor all pain was forgotten as he faced the demon. 

"If two Slayers couldn't handle me, you think you have a chance, old man? Let's see what you've got!"

Wesley's smile would've chilled the demon if it hadn't been hidden by the obscurity of the hallway. He started fencing the stronger and more agile creature with the weary moves of an exhausted fighter.

Gradually, Wesley deftly maneuvered the vampire toward the stairs, and gradually two floors down, to the training room, all the time careful to appear as every weak thrust of his sword might the last one, and every parry was just a matter of luck. He kept building the creature's self confidence until he was within a step from the open iron maiden.

"Good night," Wesley said, and kicked the vampire in the stomach.

The demon was so surprised by this unexpected show of force that he stumbled dumbly inside the torture device. Wesley closed the lid swiftly and locked it, smiling at the agonizing shrieks of the trapped demon.

Wesley went back out to check on the girls . He heard the sound of fighting coming from the kitchen and ran in. Miranda was in a corner trying to fend off two large demons. Through the kitchen window, he saw Grace and Eliana fighting a throng of vampires in the backyard. A third demon was tearing off the closet door, and reaching inside. Wesley heard noises from the closet, it sounded like Alex was trapped and couldn't run through the emergency exit. So that was why Miranda had run into the house. Wesley heard Alex's muffled yelp as the heavy demon caught him.

He had to choose who to help first. Or at all. Alex or Grace. An innocent little boy or a Slayer. He made the decision in an instant. He shoved his sword through the back of the Mohra demon that was attacking Miranda, just to get its attention. As soon as the warrior turned to face the new opponent, Wesley went straight for the jewel embedded on its forehead. He impaled himself on the demon's sword as he smashed it and Wesley's blood mingled with that pouring from the wound Wesley had just inflicted on it.

The demon dropped its sword and clutched at its forehead, as if trying to stop the reaction. Its body began splitting from the spot where the jewel had been, a bright red light came out from it, and soon there was nothing in its stead.

Grace had taken advantage of his arrival, and stabbed her remaining attacker, while Wesley looked at the demon holding Alex. He took the sword stained with his own blood that the Mohra demon had conveniently dropped on the sink, next to Wesley's hand.

He saw the monster's claw moving toward Alex's neck and swung the blade with all the force he had left. The head flew off the demon's neck, and its claw fell limp on the boy's shoulder. He saw Alex close his eyes and pull out of its dead grip while the dark blood gushed freely over him. He pulled the boy into his arms, and checked his neck for any marks of claws or teeth.

Alex wiped the blood off his eyes with the back of his hands and turned around to look at the still standing corpse. Blood was gushing from the severed neck when the heavy body finally hit the floor with an unsatisfactorily faint thump.

"Wow, Wesley, that was amazing!" Alex managed to say before the screeching of tires interrupted him.

Faith ran into the kitchen with a crazed look on her face. She pulled Alex out of Wesley's arms abruptly.

"Mom, did you see him? You should see him fight, mom! He took that guy's head clean off, and he dusted like a dozen vamps in the backyard."

Alex was squirming excitedly in Faith's arms while she was wiping away the thickening blood off his face and his neck, looking frantically for cuts. Wesley felt as if her fear was drowning him. His fearless Slayer had tasted fear. Wesley found himself regretting the wild, psychopathic Faith. He could afford to drive her hard, he could afford to lose her. But this Faith was different. This Faith was somebody's mother.

He was feeling sick. He had risked her son's life. He had calculated that the boy was less useful than a Slayer.

He turned his back to the scene, ignored Faith's eyes burning into his back, and just walked out of the kitchen. He made his way to the training room, where the demon was still howling from inside the iron maiden.

He heard someone running behind him, and soon Spike caught up with him.

"Where is it?" Spike asked.

"There's no one left. This one's still alive because we need to know who sent them and why. Feeling up for a spot of torture and crumpets?"

"If there's some beer involved," Spike said with a grin.

"Did you get milk?" Wesley asked. Then rapping hard on the iron maiden, "Will you shut up and let us talk?" he addressed the demon.

"Yeah. We were getting out of the supermarket when Alex called. Got a box of Earl Grey for you. I know you're pining for the package you ordered from Fortnum and Mason, but you'll have to settle."

"Thank you."

"Shut the hell up! You'll have all the time to shout once we get you out. And word of advice, the more you move, the more it's going to hurt," Spike told the prisoner. "Denmons today," he said looking at Wesley.

"We should go check on the girls."

"You okay, mate? You look like you rolled around in blood. Don't tell me none of it is yours."

"Most of it is mine," Wesley answered, "but the Mohra bled on me. Its blood has regenerative properties."

"You're a lucky bastard, aren't ya?" Spike slapped his shoulder, relief coming through in his tone.

Wesley didn't say anything. He was trying to think about anything except the choice he had made. It had worked out all right in the end, but he tried to avoid the question. What kind of man was he to choose a Slayer over an innocent boy? Had he forgotten that Slayers were expendable... No, he had not. He had thought about the big picture, and made a split second decision. It wasn't helping. He still felt like hell.

"So... how many were there?" Spike asked as they were climbing the stairs.

"I saw four on the roof when the alarm went off. And ten or so outside in the yard."

"A serious attack. We should really find out what they were looking for."

A couple of hours later, Wesley was tying the unlucky survivor to a chair when Faith walked into the office they had given him the first night back. He had made a habit of sleeping on the couch rather than going up to his room.

"You sure you wanna mess up your office?" Spike was asking. "I'm not all that clean when it comes to getting information, and blood is hell to get out of the carpet."

Faith sat down on the couch and watched them.

"Everyone all right?" Wesley asked without looking away from what he was doing.

"Yeah. All wounds dressed up, and they're all in bed. I made Alex sleep with the girls till we're done here."

Spike was smirking, and Wesley did his best to keep his face straight, perfectly able to picture the sort of things the vampire would say if it weren't for Faith.

"Wes," she called.

"Hmm?" he acknowledged her, still not looking up.

Faith put her hand on his arm.

"Wes," she demanded his attention. "Thank you," she said when he finally met her gaze.

'Faith, I'm a complete bastard. Don't trust me.'

He didn't say that.

"I did my best, Faith. And I'm a lucky bastard," he said.

Spike sniggered.

"Well, we're all done here. Let the fun start!" Spike said looking at their prisoner. "You hurt the girls. I hope you won't start talking soon."

Wesley felt his hair standing on end hearing Spike's chill tone. He remembered that the beer-loving, Slayer-shagging vampire had been able to beat Angel, kill two Slayers, survive the battle with Wolfram and Hart, and stand by Faith for a decade. They would get the information out of the wretched creature shivering in the chair.

Maybe there was a chance to avert another Apocalypse with one Slayer, one vampire and three teenagers. His high opinion of Faith's abilities had been irrevocably set by her performance in the days of the Beast. The girls had handled themselves pretty well tonight. His misgivings about the vampire were fading.

* * *

_ To be continued...  
_


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters or the setting of the story. All things I borrowed from the Buffyverse are a creation of and belong to Joss Whedon.

**Timeline**: about 9years after "Not Fading Away" ("Angel"), 10 after "Chosen" (BtVS)

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Beta: Dave

Dave also made several very good points about the previous chapter, which demand a severe re-write. The most important of them, vampires couldn't have entered the house without an invitation. So, for the time being, please imagine that in the previous chapter I didn't talk about vampires, just demons.

I intend to re-write the previous chapter and probably this one as well, but I dare to go forward without first having edited for fear of getting stuck.

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**Chapter 5**

**

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**

_Wesley slung the baby's overnight bag over his shoulder, and walked out of the Hyperion Hotel holding the child in his arms. When he stepped out, he was on the boardwalk outside his old apartment. He crossed the street into the park. When the blade slashed his throat the pain incapacitated him. He couldn't breathe, couldn't hold the child. The baby fell from his arms and on his way down Wesley saw it wasn't an infant, but a nine year old boy. Alex. Alex kept falling. Wesley stretched out his hands to catch him, but his fingers, red and slick with his own blood never reached the child. Alex kept falling, falling through the splitting ground, deeper and deeper into the bowels of the earth. _

_Everything faded to black and Wesley felt the soft weight of the pillow over his face pushing him into nothingness. His perspective swiveled and he was suddenly watching the scene from above, but it wasn't Angel's massive, dark figure helping him on his way to hell. _

"Wesley, wake up!" a commanding voice yanked him out of the nightmare.

"Faith!" Wesley called out gasping for air.

"Do you have anything other than nightmares?" Spike asked, once Wesley was awake.

"Guess I shouldn't have slept in the office after all," he said groping for his glasses.He put them on, and ran his fingers through his hair. "What time is it?"

"Late. Or early. Almost morning."

"Dawn," Wesley said, and noticed the vampire react. "I remember her," he went on, watching Spike more carefully this time. "Dawn," he repeated the name. "I remember the same events with and without her. You know **about** the memory alteration, I remember both pasts. You see, I broke an Orlon Window once. And now I remember. Two timelines. Two sets of memories. Two people. One created from pure energy, one concealed."

"What are you talking about?" Spike asked worried.

"You know that your early memories of Dawn were fabricated by those monks. Angel did the reverse. He loved someone so much, he put all our souls at stake, put us all in the path of such terrible a darkness..."

"Wes, are you all right, mate?"

Wesley looked at the vampire trying to clear his mind. There was no point in talking about Connor. 'The Destroyer' would've been such an asset. But he had no way to reach him in time. A trip to Los Angeles was out of the question.

"You look like you need a coffee. Or a bottle of scotch," Spike said.

"Yes. Let's go for coffee."

"Kitchen's busted though," Spike said when they were going downstairs. "Too bad there isn't a Mystical Cleaning Crew we could call in. You think Superman ever goes back to help the townfolk with the debris? 'Hello, good people of Metropoliswould you like me to throw this huge hunk of doomsday device into outer space?' It's the sort of thing he'd do. That cape-wearing-nappy-loving ponce!"

"Superman is a fictional character," Wesley said.

"You know there's a town named Smallville in Indiana?" Spike said.

"He's still not real."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do."

"They make movies about vampires, and we're real. Superman could be real, too. Hey, maybe he's young. In high school or something."

"Or maybe he's not real."

On this note, they entered the kitchen where Faith was sweeping the floor. They had buried the demons in the backyard before getting to work on the last one, but when Wesley had left the kitchen a few hours earlier it was still plastered with blood and gore.

"We're gonna need new furniture," Faith said. "The fridge and the microwave oven are still ok, though."

"Faith, haven't you slept at all?"

"Also, we need a new door and we have to do something about that big hole in the back wall."

"The coffeemaker OK?" Wesley asked.

"The mug was in the washer, but I think that the machine got some blood spatter. I didn't get to that side of the room yet."

"That's all right. I drank blood once. And there was no coffee in it," Wesley said and went to put on the coffee.

"When did you drink blood?" Spike asked, amused.

"This one time, I pretended to be Angel for a case."

The three of them fell into a semi-comfortable cleaning routine.

"Do you think they'll try again?" Spike asked, pulling a blood spattered cupboard off the wall.

"Odds are they won't, but we should still be very cautious. I want to start training the girls," Wesley said.

"OK," Faith agreed.

Wesley was surprised that she didn't seem the least bit offended by his suggestion. He had half expected that she would feel undermined or downright insulted.

"You've done a good job with them, but they rely too much on their Slayer strength. Not only they don't have complete Slayer capabilities, but that's never enough. They should learn how to fight even without their powers. There was a test at the end of a Slayer's training, the Cruciamentum, when the Slayer had to face a vampire without her strength."

"I never took this test."

"I wasn't your Watcher long enough."

"Buffy told me about it. It's a horrible thing to do to the girls, Wes," Faith's tone was threatening. "Not even the Council uses it anymore."

"They **have** gone soft."

"Who do you think you are? Quentin Travers?"

"You said you wanted them to stay alive."

"I heard that some Slayers died during Cruciamentum," Spike said.

"The oldest known Slayer passed it, and she's still alive and kicking arse. And, Faith, I think you should intensify Alex's training."

"I was wondering if I should send him from the Hellmouth. Somewhere safe. He hasn't seen his godfather for some time now."

The note of uncertainty in her voice was worrying Wesley. He had to put an end to any doubts she might have.

"He's safest with you," Wesley said reassuringly. "Who is his godfather?" he asked, suddenly curious.

"Xander Harris," Spike answered, with a touch of contempt in his voice.

* * *

_Early that morning_

When the girls came down for breakfast Spike went up to bed, and Faith was rummaging through the remnants of their supplies to find something that had survived the battle. The Slayers were showing little of the damage they had taken the night before. Wesley was more grateful than ever for the famed Slayer healing. He was even more relieved when the barrage of questions started, reassuring him that things were not as dire as he had feared.

"So, what did they want?" Eliana asked abruptly.

"Two things: to kill all of you and to get their hands on a map Faith found a few years ago. They intended to free an ancient demon trapped somewhere in the mountain."

"Why did they attack Alex?" Miranda asked.

"They were under orders to kill everyone in the house so the vampire who sent them could come in to look for the map. Faith and Spike dusted a dozen vampires who were waiting for all of us to die so they could enter."

"Was the one who sent them among the dusted?"

"Yes," Wesley answered Eliana's question without hesitation. Faith had assured him that she had recognized and dusted the old vampire their unfortunate hostage had described the night before.

"Still, it's a good thing that summer holiday starts tomorrow, isn't it? We should prepare for what's coming."

"Yes. And from now on, I'm going to be in charge of your training," Wesley said.

"You decided to be our Watcher after all," Miranda said with a smile.

Wesley was carefully hiding his surprise. They were all letting him take charge as if he had done something to deserve their trust. He was not a champion. He was a cold, calculating bastard, and not even Spike or Faith were challenging his decisions. Then again, knowing the two of them, they had not enjoyed being the adults of the group. Having a father figure around had probably been one of the reasons they had brought him back in the first place, even if they weren't aware of it.

"Good morning!" Alex said cheerfully when he came in the kitchen. "Anything left to eat? I'm starving." The boy sat across the table from Wesley beaming, and his eyes were sparkling with such unadulterated admiration, that even the worried Englishman could not help an awkward smile in return.

* * *

_A week later_

After an unusually peaceful week, the household was settling into a new, though still tense routine. Strangely enough, this routine was revolving around Wesley.

From his place in the corner of the large room, Alex was watching Wesley train the young Slayers. The child was so quiet that Wesley sometimes forgot he was there at all. He was therefore pleasantly surprised when the boy attempted during his own evening training sessions the moves Wesley had practiced with the Slayers. He had Faith's flexibility and quick reflexes, and yet he also had an amazing ability to absorb details and advices and then put them into practice accurately, and at the same time to combine them in intelligent and novel ways. As it happened almost every time Wesley's attention wavered from the exercise at hand, the Slayer he was sparring with managed to land more and heavier hits on him.

"I need a break," Wesley said, accepting Grace's hand to get up from the floor.

He sat down hard on a wooden bench and rested his back against the iron maiden.

"Do you want some tea, Wesley?" Alex asked.

Wesley opened his eyes and looked at the boy standing in front of him with a cup of hot tea in each hand.

"Yes, thank you," he said and took the proffered cup with a tired, yet sincerely grateful smile.

"Not at all," Alex said, sitting down next to him.

Wesley noticed the unmistakable trace of English accent in the boy's voice, but did not comment on it aloud. He studied Alex discreetly as he drank his tea in companionable silence. He was still trying to identify the air of familiarity about the boy. Wesley was fairly certain he had been able to isolate the traits he had inherited from Faith – Alex looked a lot like his mother, with the glaring exception of the blue eyes. He also had her slender frame, her energy and her fighting spirit. But the maturity of his way of thinking, his unyielding patience, and his willingness to learn, not just from his own mistakes, but to be taught, his eye for details, his propensity for languages... hard as he tried to fight the absurd notion, Wesley could not help constantly see himself in the boy.

* * *

_To be continued..._

(I promise to pay more attention to the next chapter. It's just been so long since I updated, I had to post. Please be merciful with the mistakes. Many as they may be.)


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters or the setting of the story. All things I borrowed from the Buffyverse are a creation of and belong to Joss Whedon.

I have also borrowed several ideas and concepts from to J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter books, I used some in this chapter, some will be in the rest of the story. (the magical selection into Hogwarts, the mirror of Erised, the Room of Requirement)

**Timeline**: more than 9years after "Not Fading Away" ("Angel"), 10 after "Chosen" (BtVS)

Beta: Dave

* * *

**Chapter 6**

**

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**

"Could you give me the Saitama Codex, please?" Wesley asked without lifting his eyes from the crumbling papyrus.

He was two paragraphs deeper into the text before he noticed that he hadn't even gotten an answer, let alone the book. He looked up expecting to see Alex asleep in his armchair. The office was empty though, and a glance at his watch told him it was several hours past the boy's bedtime. He remembered vaguely saying goodnight to a droopy-eyed Alex around ten o'clock that night. Or had that been the night before? Alex had been acting as his research assistant for a few days, and Wesley was sometimes surprised how comfortable they felt with each other.

He stood up slowly and stretched, wincing at the sound of his creaking bones and the stabs of pain from various parts of his body. He was so tired he couldn't tell the pain from having stayed in the same position for hours apart from the pain caused by the numerous bruises he had gotten during practice.

Wesley walked out of the office with the intention to brew himself another tea and return to work. He stopped on the first landing to watch Faith and Spike sparring. Late at night was the only time they had the arena to themselves. Wesley had it during the days to train the Slayers, and in the evenings when he was training Alex.

The interaction between the two fighters was enthralling, but Wesley soon began to analyze what he was seeing and try to make sense of their recent behavior. Both of them had been unusually irritable for the past few days, and had seemed to resent the slow slayage action. They were brimming with energy, and knowing themselves unobserved they were fighting without holding back. Wesley thought they looked like a couple of young tigers, playing rough, fully aware of each other's limits.

He was fascinated by their fast, hard and often disreputable blows. For both fighters style was merely an afterthought, they had gained it simply as a side effect of their substantial experience, and were always willing to sacrifice it for the benefit of an underhanded tactic. Wesley sighed, realizing once more just how unfortunate had been his appointment as Faith's Watcher at a time when he had been himself so young and inexperienced. He was appreciative her innate grace, and at the same time could not help wishing he could correct some of her moves.

Wesley winced in sympathy when Faith caught Spike a blow on the chest so hard it threw the vampire flying across the entire length of the room all the way into the opposite wall. She went after him with some unnecessarily extravagant leaps. Spike took advantage of her momentary lack of focus on him to trip her with a well placed kick. On her way down, Faith caught Spike's arm and threw him to the floor, landing heavily on him. She straddled him, smirking overconfidently, but Spike flipped her over almost instantly, and pinned her underneath him.

Wesley expected Faith to counter the move easily, and roll on top of her opponent, but the scene seemed to freeze for a long moment. He watched Spike lose himself in Faith's gaze, and then lower his head slowly toward her. Wesley had a sharp flashback of that unwittingly spied first kiss between Fred and Gunn. The pain he had carefully walled in a dark corner of his mind stabbed him without warning. He doubled over as if physically hurt, but his mind, perpetually eager for information and truth forced him to keep his eyes open.

Spike shook his head as if to dispel the temptation, and at the same time Faith pushed him away. They both got up and walked away in silence. Wesley wondered how many times something like this had happened during the past ten years. The sexual tension between them had been so intense that it had stirred the glimmer of a reaction even inside Wesley, even beneath all the pain of his dark memories. Again, he wondered if, over the years, they had ever given in to the mutual attraction.

Wesley changed his mind about the tea, and went into Spike's room instead. He heard the shower running, and sat on the bed to wait for the vampire. He woke up startled by a theatrically loud cough. Spike was standing in the middle of the room with nothing but a towel around his hips.

"Do you miss your days as 'Head Boy', Percy?" Spike asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. "Because if you do, I'm gonna have to disappoint you."

"I wanted to talk to you. Must have dozed off."

"With the hours you're keeping, I'm surprised you woke up at all."

"You took an awfully long time with that shower," Wesley commented, wondering if the shower had been hot or cold.

"Whatcha want to talk about?"

"Faith. She has been rather snappy lately. Anything in particular bothering her?"

"You mean except the impending end of days?"

"Yes. Other than that."

Spike ran his hands through his hair. Wesley studied him in silence, giving him time to decide what to answer. He had known Angel for years, he should have been used to a vampire's unchanging appearance. He wondered why he was still surprised that Spike looked so young. It wasn't the same, of course. Angel's brooding nature had always given him an air of maturity beyond his perpetual youth, while Spike's temperament had preserved the air of almost childish wickedness.

"Faith is seeing someone. Probably shouldn't tell ya. I don't know who he is, anyway. Once every couple of months or so she takes off for a day or two. She doesn't talk about it. I never asked. My advice, don't ask her."

"How long since the last time she saw him?" Wesley asked, both relieved to have an argument against a sexual relationship between Faith and Spike, and at the same time wildly curious, and, inexplicably, a tad annoyed.

"More than three months."

"And you don't even suspect who the mystery man might be?"

Spike gave him a long look. Wesley was reminded that the vampire's ten year old relationship with Faith probably had numerous layers of complexity. He tried to understand the vampire's reluctance to probe into Faith's romantic or sexual liaisons.

"No idea, mate," Spike said.

* * *

_The next day_

Wesley looked up from the badly transcribed version of the Nyazian Prophecies. He had done research on his own for most of his life, but he felt unusually alone each night after Alex left. He saw the boy's jacket on the floor. He went to pick it up, and instead of placing it neatly on the back of a chair he decided to go to the boy's room to give it back. He had left only a few minutes ago, so he probably hadn't fallen asleep.

Wesley stopped outside Alex's room when he heard Faith's voice. He leaned quietly against the wall, listening at the conversation through the partly open door.

"You know you can tell me if you're afraid. It's ok to be scared."

"Well, yeah, I was scared when the demons attached. I 'm not stupid, they were big, bad monsters. But it turned out all right. You guys beat the stuffing out of them."

"Are you angry that I wasn't here that night?"

"Mo-om!" Alex exclaimed, exasperated. "You were on patrol. I know you can't be with me all the time. I think that's why you brought Wesley."

"You sure seem to like him a lot," Faith said.

"He's awesome, Mom. The way he fought those demons was so amazing!" Alex said excitedly.

Wesley smiled embarrassed. He wasn't eavesdropping to hear about the boy's acute case of hero worship. It was unusual in the extreme for him to be anyone's hero, but he wanted to hear Faith's reaction. She had been tense about the interaction between himself and the boy from the very beginning, and he just had to find out why.

"And he has no super powers," Alex went on.

"He can use magicks."

"He didn't use magick when he fought. I was watching him from the kitchen when he was fighting in the backyard. He's just a regular guy. Just like me. So when I grow up, I can fight demons, too."

"Baby, I would be so happy if you could have a normal life. I want you to know that whatever you want to do, I'll support your choice. Even if you want to fight demons, which scares the hell out of me. I wish you'd go to college, maybe become a doctor or something like that."

"College! I'm nine."

"I know. A mom can dream, can't she?"

"Bloody early to talk about college, wouldn't you say?"

Wesley heard the English accent again in the boy's voice, and waited patiently for Faith's reaction.

"You know, girls find an English accent sexy when they're seventeen or so. If you go back to school with an English accent, you're just asking for wedgies," Faith said.

"I-I don't have any English accent," Alex stuttered a little.

"I'm not scolding you. You could do worse than Wesley as a role model."

"Do you like him, mom?"

Faith took a beat too long to answer. Wesley was well aware he wasn't one of Faith's favorite people, but he found it difficult to hear it. When eavesdropping one always ran the risk of hearing things one would rather not know.

"I respect him, and I trust him. Like him? No. I can't say I do."

"Why not?"

"We don't have the most pleasant history. I know I told you this before, but I promise, if you still want to know, I'll tell you when you're older. OK, honey?"

"OK," Alex answered, the disappointment in his voice was mild enough to let Wesley guess that there was probably a long list of things Faith had postponed disclosing.

The words of Faith's letter came into Wesley's mind promptly. _"If you read this letter it means I died before having the conversation I promised you since you were six."_ That file was a shortcut he could follow, even if an underhanded one.

* * *

_Later that evening_

Wesley gave in to the gnawing curiosity and looked in the cabinet for the mysterious unmarked file containing Faith's farewell letter to her son. He suddenly halted his search when he saw the words "Wesley Wyndham-Pryce" on a cover. He took out the thick file, and started leafing through it on top of the cabinet. It was full of photocopies of his own Watcher diaries, and even notes from his time in Angel Investigations and Wolfram & Hart. There were annotations in Faith's handwriting on almost every page. He smiled at the unusual entry about missing English cooking. He had finally solved the small, but intriguing mystery of Faith's insight into his culinary tastes that had plagued him from the first sandwich she had offered him.

The letter fell when he put the heavy folder on the desk. He picked it up and stared at the envelope. He was looking at Alexander Lehane's acceptance into the Watcher's Academy. He remembered his father's expression when his own acceptance letter had come, so many years ago. He was, even if just momentarily, proud of him. One of the few times Wesley felt that his father found him worthy of the Wyndham-Pryce name. The last of a long line of Watchers. Or was he the last one?

It was impossible, but Wesley needed to confront Faith about the absurd, yet persistent inkling that Alex was his son. The opportunity came that very night after Faith and Spike returned from their patrol. The awkwardness of the previous night's incident was still hanging between them, and they skipped their late night training.

Spike had gone upstairs without as much as stopping by Wesley's office.

"Hey, Wes. We're back. I'm turning in for the night, if you don't need anything," Faith said as usually.

"Actually, I could use your help tonight. If you're not too tired," Wesley told her before she could leave.

He watched her sit in the armchair Alex had vacated at the end of his "shift". She looked young and tired, and Wesley weighed for a while his need to learn the truth against the dark potential of backing Faith into a corner. He tried to muster enough empathy to stop himself from pushing her buttons. He could not. He had lived his first life with the firm belief that the more he knew the better chances he stood. And this time, the battle that was coming threatened much more than his personal safety.

"Before we begin, I've been meaning to ask you for a few days, what's going on with Spike? He's not his usual carefree self."

"Oh, that. He hasn't been hunting for a while," Faith answered with a shrug.

"I know that the patrols were not all that action-packed this week, but that's hardly long enough for him to feel frustrated."

"I didn't mean that," she said, and this time she seemed slightly uncomfortable. "Spike goes away once every few months. Into big cities. And he hunts. Like he used to. Well, not exactly like he used to, but he... you know how he is with women..."

"He feeds on humans?" Wesley asked shocked. "On young women?"

"He doesn't kill. He just likes the action."

"But he's a champion..." Wesley heard himself saying before he could censure the naïve reaction.

Faith smiled with such warmth and tenderness that Wesley wished she was pleased with his youthful outburst and not with the image of Spike as champion.

"He is. He's just not like Angel."

Wesley smiled, too. She had understood that, in his mind, Angel was the prototype champion. He began his attack, knowing it to be even more effective if he started from this apparent friendly atmosphere.

"I can understand why you might have misgivings about sending Alex to the Watchers' Academy. No matter how much they have changed, I can't imagine they would approve of a Watcher who is comfortable with a vampire feeding on humans."

He saw Faith becoming suddenly pale.

"Why are you talking about him going to the Watchers' Academy?"

"His acceptance letter," Wesley said, holding it up from the desk. "I found it in my file. Funny how you never mentioned you have my old diaries."

"Stole them ages ago. When we started training Slayers. Just for reference."

"Only mine. And more than just my Watcher diaries."

Faith shrugged noncommittally.

"I also find it very interesting that the letter was in **my **file."

"It's Watcher stuff," she said.

Wesley was barely able to discern the signs of tension in her body. She had to be coiled like a cornered animal, poised to attack, but she was hiding it well. He went for a direct approach. There was no easy way to have this conversation.

"Is he my son?"

"Come on, braniac, do the math! You had been dead for a year when he was born."

She sounded like she had expected the question. The answer felt rehearsed. Wesley was not going to drop the subject no matter how she reacted. He was prepared to face anything from laughter to physical violence.

"I was alive last month and dead for the past nine years. Time isn't exactly consistent for me."

"Kind of a big stretch even for you. And, Wes, you can't possibly imagine you would forget conceiving him. I mean, come on!" she said pointing at herself in a confident pose that reminded Wesley of the eighteen year old Slayer he had let down. But not even the reminder of this failure from his youth could dissuade him from looking for the truth.

"Don't think I don't notice you're not saying he isn't mine. As for conceiving him... Faith, I read your file. I know you can't have children."

She threw him against the wall in a split second. Wesley watched the boiling fury in her eyes with a tired detachment. Truth had always seemed more important than his own life, and this time was no different.

"If you so much as whisper something like this to Alex or to anyone, I will hurt you so bad you'll remember fondly the first time I tortured you."

He let her wrath wash over him, knowing it to be righteous. Miraculous as Alex's existence was, there was no doubt in Wesley's mind that Faith was the boy's mother.

"I'm not a monster, Faith. I wouldn't say anything to the child even if I didn't like him as much as I do. But don't put it past me to get a DNA comparison."

He watched her cave in. She loosened her grip on him, though her eyes were still blazing. He wondered if he should do something to comfort her. Yet even something simple, like patting her on the shoulder, or taking her hand, felt impossible. Wesley was aware how distant he must seem, standing in front of her demanding a truth she had kept secret for a decade.

"He is my son, Wes. I know better than you how impossible this should have been. You cannot possibly understand what having Alex meant to me. I knew I couldn't have children since I was seventeen. When I got pregnant... it was a miracle. I don't know how it was possible. I don't even understand who or what his father was. Shut up," she said when Wesley opened his mouth to say something.

She went to the file cabinet, and took out a file labeled "Erised".

"This is everything I could gather over the years. Read it. I'm kind of hoping you can make some sense of it all. Let me know if you do," she said.

"I never wanted to hurt either of you, but I need to know. He is so much like me when I was his age," his voice trailed off. "Except he seems happier and better adjusted," he added.

"His father was a lot like you, too," Faith said, and left the room.

_To be continued..._


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters or the setting of the story. All things I borrowed from the Buffyverse are a creation of and belong to Joss Whedon.

I have also borrowed several ideas and concepts from to J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter books, I used some in this chapter, some will be in the rest of the story. (the magical selection into Hogwarts, the mirror of Erised, the Room of Requirement)

**Timeline**: more than 9years after "Not Fading Away" ("Angel"), 10 after "Chosen" (BtVS)

* * *

A/N: So that I don't come off as too sneaky, I'm also going to start posting the story about what had happened to Faith after Wesley's death, the events around Alex's conception, which had been strange enough so she needed to gather information. The "Erised" file doesn't contain Faith's story, only the background surrounding what had happened. I'm not sure when Faith and Wesley will have time to have "the talk", so I'm posting "Wanted", the companion piece of "Needed". You can read it at the same time as "Needed" if you really need to know who is Alex's father, or afterwards if you enjoy the suspense.

* * *

Making up names - not my forte. I looked through name generators and sites that explain the meaning of names. Making up myths – even more of a problem.

I hope you enjoy this, also **unbeta'd** chapter. As soon as I hear from my beta, I'll post a better version. My apologies for any errors.

* * *

**Chapter 7**

**

* * *

**

Wesley looked at Faith's retreating back with a trace of remorse. He looked down at the file, looked up at the sound of the closing door, and then sat back at the desk. He pushed up his glasses with one finger, and opened the folder.

The Sunnydale High assistant librarian in him shuddered when he saw that the first item was a page torn from what appeared at first glance to have been a very ol manuscript. Beneath the yellowing parchment, he found another page, with the typed translation. He looked at it for moment, then stood up and looked in the library for a dictionary. He went back to the desk with it and began reading. He chose to read the original, getting passed his automatic discomfort of seeing a mangled manuscript, and only occasionally looked at the translation to check certain words. The title of the first page was "The Story of Erised".

_The Story of Erised_

_It was the year of the Wolf when the mighty clan of the Silver Moon had to prepare for war. They were led by Stellador, the great Warrior King. He had been a great chieftain, but he was too advanced in years to carry the sword of war. _

_Stellador was as wise in his old age as he had been fierce in his youth. He had prepared his two sons, Erised and Nosaer, to rule after him. The youngest, Nosaer, was wise and careful, and the king had prepared him to rule in time of peace. The oldest, Erised, was strong and brave, and the king had trained him to rule in time of war. But no matter how much the king loved his two sons, he had to be sure that his people had the best leader in the coming war, even if he was not of his blood._

_Among the people of the Silver Moon, there were only two men who could compete with Erised in strength and courage, Theron, the hunter, and Dolius, the shepherd. Between these three men, king Stellador had to make his choice. All three of them passed every trial the king could think of. As a last resort, the king asked the three to enter the Rubicon Caves. Of all the men who had entered them from the beginning of time, only Chand, the son of the Moon Goddess had come out._

_A guard of honor, made up by the most upstanding men in the kingdom, accompanied the champions to the entrance of the caves. The three champions went their separate ways through three tunnels that started from the main chamber. They went into the depths of the unmapped caves without food or water, only with the clothes they were wearing and the weapons they were carrying._

_The guard waited for the exit of the champions. After two days and two nights, Erised came out of the caves. The guard waited ten more days and nights, but neither Theron, nor Dolius came back._

_Erised was taken back to the capital where he received the crown and the sword from his father._

Wesley looked up abruptly when he heard the door opening.

"We have to go into town," Faith said. "One of my sources just called me. He has something on this damn darkness thingy."

She hurried past him to grab her old backpack that rested once again at the foot at the desk. Wesley grabbed a crossbow off the wall, strapped the hidden blade on his forearm and put on his jacket before hurrying after her.

He had to shake his head to dispel the nausea caused by this sudden motion after the concentration of reading the arcane lettering and simultaneously translating. He was still trying to figure out what that story had to do with Alex, when he realized they were alone. They were near the car when he asked Faith:

"Isn't Spike coming?"

"Marty can't stand him. And he can smell vampires a mile away."

"You're not taking me on a long walk off a short pier by any chance?" Wesley asked, getting in the passenger seat.

"Not evil anymore, remember?" she said without as much as looking at him.

"I remember. I remember everything," he murmured to himself.

"Yes, I know. Spike told me you've been talking about having broken an Orlon Window."

"You know about them..." Wesley said, sounding more than a little impressed.

"Looked for one for ages. Wicked complicated magick. And damn near impossible to find."

He looked at her surprised.

"Why did you need it?"

"Just wanted to check something. You'll see after you finish reading the file."

"Dammit, Faith, why won't you just tell me?"

"I can't talk about it, OK. It took you being a complete bastard to make me even give you the file."

"Do you still need an Orlon Window?"

"You're fishing for answers, Wes," she said, and he could almost make out an approving grin on her face. "No, I don't. Willow did a spell."

Wesley watched her jaw tightening at the memory. He had a sudden insight, as if the little pieces of the puzzle were coming together, even though he couldn't see the whole picture yet.

"You were wondering if your memories about having Alex were fake," he said.

She remained silent, but he as much as heard her answer. He could just about begin to imagine what hell must have been for her, wondering if she was Alex's mother.

"Faith..." he began, unsure what he could say.

"We're here," she said, and pulled the car over. "Marty has a crypt that way," she said, and pointed toward the northern side of the graveyard.

They got out of the car, and walked in silence through the deserted cemetery.

* * *

Faith and Wesley realized it was a trap at the same time. That is, too late. They heard the crypt door being bolt shut behind them. A huge slimy demon that seemed to have come out of the wall remained by the closed door. The flickering candles on their right were the only source of light in the chamber. Four vampires seemed to materialize from the coffins scattered around the crypt.

"Sssslayer," a voice hissed from the dark.

"Hey, Marty, what happened? Did you bite your tongue or something?" Faith asked with insincere concern.

Wesley stood by her, surreptitiously cocking the crossbow.

"Sassssy," the voice sibilated again.

"All right, Daffy Duck, who the hell are you and what do you want?"

"Your blood, of courssse."

The answer was not meant to reassure, and Wesley felt the hair on the back of his neck standing straight. He was developing hackles, he thought vaguely, trying to map the room for the best defense. He had never actually fought by Faith's side before, but from everything he knew about her, she hated being on defense. He would just have to watch her back as best he could.

"You do look anemic," Faith said to the darkness. "Slayer blood would do you a world of good. Too bad you're in for a world of pain. Hello, boys!" She nodded amiably to the vampires, stake miraculously already in hand.

"You should have come alone, Ssslayer," the shadow hissed.

"Yeah, right, and I should have worn stiletto heels," Faith quipped, and put the stake through the heart of the nearest vampire.

The arrow twang through the air near Faith, and a second vampire turned to dust in front of her. Wesley was a good man with a crossbow. The dust of the disintegrating vampire hadn't yet settled on the floor when a new figure emerged from the darkest corner of the crypt. Wesley.

Wesley saw Faith turning her head toward him incredulously.

"It's a glamour, Faith. Keep your focus!" her Wesley said sharply, and the shouted warning cost him a second's distraction, which kept him from dodging the demon's heavy blow. He heard the unpleasantly dry noise as the punch smashed into his cheekbone.

Faith was still fighting the two remaining vamps while the other Wesley advanced toward her. Wesley saw that her own attention was wavering, as one of the vampires smashed Faith's ankle stomping on it hard. She roared in pain and staked him in one swift, angry movement. She switched the stake in the left hand, and got out the silver bladed dagger she had strapped to her thigh. She limped toward the second Wesley with the dagger in her right hand. The last vampire jumped at her, and Faith threw the stake straight through his heart without paying it much attention, her focus completely on the second Wesley.

Faith looked into his eyes, and despite the danger, despite all her experience and training, she lowered the dagger. "Wesley" moved so fast that he managed to get two slashes across her belly before she reacted. When he moved his arm for the third cut, Faith grabbed it and plunged the dagger in his forearm, near the elbow, and pulled it roughly through his flesh all the way down to his wrist.

"Wesley" howled in pain, and flayed his left arm trying to punch her. She left the dagger in the bloodied wrist that she was still holding in an iron grip, and blocked the blow with her right arm. She propped her weight on her uninjured ankle, steadied herself on her opponent's arm and kneed him forcefully in the groin. When "Wesley" doubled over moaning piteously Faith pulled out the dagger from his wrist, and swung her right leg up fast, her tibia connecting loudly with his ear. "Wesley" had toppled over with the force of her blow, Faith kicked him a couple more times before jumping with her knees on his chest.

She thrust the blade into "Wesley"'s neck.

"The darkness is coming. Is coming for you, Sssslayer," the creature gurgled through the blood sloshing from his neck. Wesley's features were slowly fading, morphing back into a reptilian looking face.

Wesley caught a glimpse of Faith plunging the dagger where she hoped the creature's heart was, just for good measure. He was having a hard time resisting the demon's onslaught. He was barely able to parry about half of them, and he could feel himself grow weaker by the second.

He had fallen to his knees when he saw Faith coming to his aid. She limping, and she was pressing her left arm across her stomach trying to stop the hemorrhage. Her shirt was torn and almost completely drenched in blood. He took a hard kick in the chin that threw him against the wall. The demon put his hands around Wesley's neck and began squeezing. Then the pressure eased, and it fell like a heavy, slimy, demonic curtain.

Faith kneeled next to him, and, to Wesley's concern, her gaze seemed unfocused. She reached out toward his face. Her fingers touched lightly his swollen face.

"Wes... what happened to your glasses?" she asked, sliding gradually into unconsciousness.

"Faith! Faith, wake up!" he yelled hoarsely at her, instantly forgetting everything that was broken, smashed or hurting inside him.

She opened her eyes slowly, as if her eyelids were unbearably heavy.

"Please, Faith, stay awake! Stay awake for me," he pleaded.

"For you," she said, smiling vaguely.

"Faith!" Wesley shouted again.

When he saw her eyes were beginning to close he slapped her with all the strength he could still muster. He was relieved to see her eyes snapping wide open.

"Let's get out of here," she said.

They helped one another to stand up, and hobbled together toward the locked door.

"I have something in the backpack to open this," she told Wesley, looking at the heavy lock on the door.

"This backpack of yours has everything," Wes said, rummaging through the rucksack he had dropped conveniently close to the door.

He handed Faith the thin wire, and watched her jiggle it in the keyhole. It took her only a few - rather hesitant, he noted - movements to open the lock.

They walked out of the cemetery as fast as they could. Wesley got in the driver's seat. His heart sunk at the sight of his Slayer's head loll to the side in the passenger seat. She had lost a lot of blood, and he could see, even by the pale moonlight, that she was still bleeding.

"Faith!" he called sharply. "Look at the road. I can't see very well. You have to guide me."

She opened her eyes, and looked at him drowsily. He probably looked like shit, Wesley thought, because as soon as she took a look at the swollen flesh around eyes, she seemed to focus, and turned her gaze to the road.

* * *

Spike was dressing Faith's injuries, and from the look he had just given him, Wesley was not welcome. He got out of Faith's room and walked slowly down the corridor, intending to grab an icepack from the kitchen before heading back in the main office.

Wesley stopped for a while in front of Alex's room. He was worried about the boy's reaction to the news of Faith's injury. He must have seen his mother hurt before, but he still wished he could have spared the boy another experience of this kind. If he had to be completely honest - and Wesley always had to be honest with himself - he hated that Alex might think less of him because he had been unable to protect her. Alex had to know that his mother was hardly someone who needed protecting, but he was just a little boy. A little boy whose mother had gotten hurt.

He considered heading to his room and sleeping the pain off, but the file he had abandoned in the top drawer of the desk was drawing him irrefutably.

Wesley sighed as he sat at the desk, took out the file, opened it, closed it again, and stood up. He put the file under his arm, and shuffled back to Faith's room where he was greeted by Spike's icy stare.

"You should have a look around. I didn't see anyone when we came back, but I think it would be wise to check," Wesley said, ignoring Spike's silent anger. "I'll stay here with her," he added, and flopped rather than sat in the only chair in the room.

Spike stood up from the edge of the bed where Faith was sound asleep.

"We'll talk about this," he said in a harsh whisper.

Wesley nodded. They had to talk about it. Later.

Spike took another worried look at Faith before he left. Wesley could feel the vampire's concern. It was probably as deep as his love for her. Wesley refused to think about it.

He had just opened the file, when Faith moved in her sleep making him look at her. Her hair was splayed on the pillow, she was incredibly pale from the loss of blood, and she seemed utterly vulnerable. The flashback hit him like a lightning strike, the image of Fred's last hours superimposed on the scene in front of him. The pain was so intense that he could no longer breathe. It wrapped around his heart tightly, as a funeral shroud. The sound of the papers falling to the floor brought him gently back to reality.

He winced when he knelt down to pick them up. He gathered them and placed them on her vanity. He scratched at his side absentmindedly, while trying to figure out if he had messed up the order too much.

He dared to take another look at Faith before sitting back down. Fred's image no longer came up from his subconscious. He opened the folder again, and this time nothing interrupted him. He had gone through the entire content before falling asleep.

Wesley startled awake at the touch.

"What..." he croaked.

Faith was standing in front of him, her hands unbuttoning his shirt.

"You're bleeding, you stupid idiot," she informed him. "Come on, now that you're awake, go sit on the bed, and take off your shirt."

He obeyed her command.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, looking at the purple spots on the bandages visible under her T-shirt.

"Probably better than you. Slayer healing, remember?" she said.

She began cleaning the deep scratch on his side. The alcohol burnt him, and he hissed in pain. He felt Faith's hands freeze for a second. He made sure he didn't make another noise no matter how much her ministrations were hurting him.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters or the setting of the story. All things I borrowed from the Buffyverse are a creation of and belong to Joss Whedon.

I have also borrowed several ideas and concepts from to J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter books, I used some in this chapter, some will be in the rest of the story. (the mirror of Erised, the Room of Requirement)

**Timeline**: more than 9years after NFA ("Angel"), 10 after "Chosen" (BtVS)

Sorry it took so long. I'll do my best to write the next chapter faster.

I didn't even get chapter 7 back from my beta reader, so this one is not beta'd either.

* * *

**Chapter 8**

**

* * *

**

Wesley woke up sore and swollen. The icepack had slid off during his short and restless sleep. His face felt raw, and he didn't bother to put on his glasses since he could barely open his eyes. The bandage that Faith had taped to his ribs seemed to have held, although the wound was still throbbing painfully beneath it.

He shuffled to the bathroom concentrating on every move, squinting as best he could. He managed to wash his face and didn't even try to glance in the mirror. He had a fair idea of how he looked like after being thoroughly beaten. Oh, what a wonderful day this promised to be!

When he approached the kitchen he heard it buzzing with the domestic sounds of breakfast in progress. The noise subsided for a moment when he entered. Wesley identified the shapes around the table with some difficulty, and was almost glad he couldn't see their expressions. The activity resumed, leaving him excluded from the familial atmosphere. He wondered if the sight of him would disturb their appetite and he was about to leave when Faith nudged him to the empty chair next to hers.

"Sit down, Wes. You have to eat something," she said. "The girls made pancakes."

He obeyed silently. The first sip of orange juice slid painfully down his injured windpipe. One of the girls put a plate in front of him.

"Thank you," he said.

He had tried to whisper the word, but, even so, his voice came out as a harsh croaking. The kitchen fell silent for a beat again. He proceeded laboriously to eat while he tried to make up his mind if he should skip training the Slayers for the day. He could neither practice with them, nor observe them. The swelling was going to go down, the pain he could stand, but the damage to his throat was going to make it impossible for him to speak loudly.

"I'm afraid I can't train with you today," Wesley whispered.

"About time you gave the girls a day off," Faith said.

He couldn't help the sensation that she was trying to make things seem normal. More than that. It felt as if she was trying to protect him. If he judged on Spike's attitude, they all considered him to blame. He was used to that. What else was new? Maybe Faith's attempts to smooth things out.

He stood up as soon as he finished eating.

"Lovely meal," Wesley mouthed rather than spoke.

"Where are you going?" Faith asked.

"My office. Have to check something."

"Anything we can do to help?" she asked.

Wesley shook his head slowly. It was beginning to spin. He wanted to talk to her about the Erised file and about Alex, but he had to resign himself to quiet research. Faith's visit to the Rubicon cave was surrounded by a spell that prevented her from talking about it. He had some idea of how to break the constraint, but it still involved some talking on his part. It just had to wait, regardless of how much curiosity tortured him.

Wesley took the charts and prophecies from the library into his office. He submerged himself in the disorganized accumulation of data. A few hours later, Faith's entrance disrupted his concentration. She had brought him tea. Wesley nearly panicked when she put the cup on the corner of his desk, near a high and precariously balanced stack of papers. 

"You sure there's nothing we can do to help?" she asked.

She seemed sincere. Wesley marveled again how much his Slayer had changed. His gaze went instinctively to the Erised file that lay alone on a shelf.

"Soon," he whispered when she followed his gaze.

The stiffening in Faith's body confirmed his supposition that she was under the influence of a constraining spell.

"All right," she said and left.

Wesley almost smiled. She was fighting it. Whatever hold that thing had on her, she was fighting it. He just had to be a complete bastard again to help her break it.

* * *

It didn't make sense. Wesley felt like throwing the books out the window. He wanted to pile up all the papers he had scribbled on and burn them in the middle of the room.

He had been trying to calculate the moment when the darkness was supposed to come. And he kept coming out with the same result. No matter how he calculated, or what prophecies he used, or whether he used the lunar or solar calendar, everything showed that the events of the prophecies were not supposed to happen for at least ten more years. And that couldn't be right, because all the portents were manifesting, the demonic activity had increased, due to the rise in dark magic in the atmosphere. Why was he still getting the wrong result!

He paced the floor irritated, trying to think of new ways to check his calculations. Maybe if he talked to someone... But he had no one to turn to. Everyone he had ever known and trusted was gone. He had checked out the Watchers' Council website. He hardly recognized any names. Even Rupert Giles seemed to have retired.

He could've talked to Spike. No matter how immature the vampire had tried to remain, some things must have stuck to him in more than a century of existence. But he knew that Spike would not be in a mood to talk to him. Not after the previous night's events.

He had to take a break or he would go insane. He wanted to call the Slayers for a training session, but he knew he wasn't up to it. He had heard them driving away hours earlier. To the mall, he made an educated guess.

Alex hadn't showed up all day. He wanted to believe that they were all leaving him respite to recover from his injuries or maybe they thought he needed peace and quiet to make the difficult calculations. Instead of appreciating the tranquility, he felt isolated.

He had to find something else to think about. He looked at Faith's file and made up his mind. He was going to get the whole truth out of her.

Wesley went into the main office and rifled through half a dozen books of white and not so white witchcraft until he found what he needed to break through the spell that prevented Faith from talking about her experience in the Rubicon cave.

* * *

Faith and Spike were in the backyard. They were putting up a gazebo. Wesley remembered vaguely a conversation about Alex's upcoming birthday party. He watched them from a distance for a while. He was struck by the ease they displayed around one another. He tried to settle on a comparison, brother and sister or long time married couple.

Spike was apparently saying something unbearably funny, because Faith dropped the hammer and doubled over with laughter. She wiped the tears of mirth and made valiant efforts to stop laughing. When Spike went on talking she burst into laughter again, and pushed him not quite gently against the half raised structure. Wesley noticed the instant change in atmosphere. Faith's hand rested on Spike's chest longer than it should have. Spike remained with his back to the wall, unable to react in any way. They shared a look that was nothing like one of time-tested camaraderie.

They parted, all of a sudden awkward. Wesley imagined Spike saying something like _'the sun's gonna set soon'_ before walking away. When Spike walked back into the house, he noticed Wesley for the first time. Wesley found it odd that the vampire should be surprised by his presence. Angel could sense humans and non humans from an appreciable distance. It couldn't have been that much of a difference in the abilities of the two vampires. The momentary deficiency was probably due to Spike's inattention.

Wesley went to Faith and he was not surprised to see her almost imperceptible disappointment. She must have imagined that Spike had returned.

"I'd like to talk about the cave," he said.

"Come on, Wes, can't we leave it until we're all done with the Apocalypse?"

"Do you have anything more pressing to do?" he asked.

"I just don't feel like talking about it. Alex and the girls are gonna be back any time now."

"I thought you wanted to know more about his origin," Wesley interrupted her rationalization.

"Did you find out anything?"

"I have certain suspicions. I need you to tell me more. In the file there is nothing about what happened to you."

"Well..."

"You have to want to know. The cave seems protected by a spell that constrains all its visitors from talking about it. I can do a counter spell. You must want it."

"I don't know, Wes."

"I'll wait for you in the office. Your choice."

* * *

Wesley was beginning to doubt that she would ever come. He may have overestimated Faith's ability to resist the spell.

"Can you guarantee me that talking about it won't undo... what happened?" she asked as soon as she entered.

"No. I think it won't, but I can't guarantee it. If I'm right, there's old magic involved."

"I trusted you with my life before. But this is my son's life."

"Let me tell you what my supposition is. I think that the Rubicon cave is the residence of a spirit that feeds on human emotions. The visitors are trapped by the illusions that the cave creates from their own minds. Most of them never find their way out. Considering that there's no first hand account of someone who did manage to get out, I don't know any more."

"And you always want to know," she said.

"We need to know. You must have realized how important this is, or you wouldn't have spent all that time and energy compiling the file."

"Do the counter-spell already! I hate being afraid like this," Faith said.

Wesley nodded. He understood the insidious workings of the spell. It had made Faith fear knowing more. He sprinkled the herbs he had prepared over the occult symbol he had sketched on the floor, put a black crystal in her hand covering it with his, and read aloud the incantation. He almost felt the wave of magic wash over her.

"What happened ten years ago, Faith? Tell me when and how you found the cave," he prompted.

"It was about two months after you died. I was chasing a demon. He ran into the woods, I followed and killed it just outside the entrance of a cave. I was curious, so I went in. And all of a sudden, the corridor I was in turned into... into my old prison cell."

Wesley watched her struggle with the memories. His guess was that she had met a man, also trapped by the cave, and while they tried to make their way out through the maze of illusions, the two of them had acted on the natural or magically enhanced attraction. Maybe he was the man Faith had kept seeing for the past ten years. Alex's father. But why wouldn't she tell Alex about him? He thought about the letter again. He left aside his suppositions.

"Was someone else there?"

She looked at him for a very long time, causing him to wonder if the counter-spell was failing.

"Yes, there was something."

"What was it, Faith?"

"It was you," she said, after another long pause.

"What?" he asked dumbly. "What do you mean it was me?"

"A man appeared out of nowhere. Out of nothing. He looked like you. Talked like you. He was just like you. He even had..." her voice faltered. "He had the mark of the knife wound that killed you. I don't understand it, Wesley. It was... you."

He took a while to digest the information. He had been so sure of himself. He had thought he had it all figured out. It was just like Faith to sleep with some guy she met in a mysterious cave. He could be such an idiot sometimes.

"It wasn't me, Faith," he said eventually.

"Duh!" Faith exclaimed.

"I wasn't expecting this. It's not at all what I thought had happened."

"What did you think? That i just found some guy and slept with him? You have such a high opinion of me, Wes! A lot of good this does to my self esteem. What else? Did you think I killed him and ate him afterwards?"

"No. i just thought that there was some reason why you wouldn't tell Alex about him."

"What reason?"

He was supposed to ask the questions, but somehow Faith's revelation had turned the tables.

"I don't know. He was married or something," he managed to say.

"You think I'd see a married man for eight years? You really think that little of me."

"Eight years?" Wes heard the information despite Faith's tone of injured virtue.

"What?" she pretended not to understand.

"You said you've been seeing him for eight years. How? Did _he _appear to you again?"

"Umm... Not appeared. Not as such," she hedged.

"How did you meet him again?" Wesley asked, a dreadful suspicion forming in his mind.

"I went back. To the cave," she admitted.

"Faith!"

"I had to know, OK! I asked every witch, oracle, shaman, anyone i could find. For two years, Wes! For two years I tried to find out who was the father of my son."

"I can understand that, but going back in there... You were lucky to have gotten out the first time. How did you get out?"

"The exit just appeared again. The cell and... him... were gone."

"Just like that?" Wesley asked.

She shrugged.

"The same thing happened every time you went back?"

"You mean the exit just appearing?"

"Let me rephrase. What happened the next time you went?"

"Pretty much the same thing," she said with such conviction that Wesley cound not help but wonder what did not the 'pretty much' cover.

"What was different?" he asked.

Faith was about to answer him when Spike came in the office. The vampire was about to speak when his gaze fell on Faith and Wesley's linked hands. Faith pulled away her hand instinctively. The black crystal she was holding fell to the floor and shattered.

"Something wrong?" Wesley asked unperturbed.

"No," Spike answered eventually. "Didn't know where everybody'd gone."

"I just called Alex on his cell phone. They're on their way back from the mall."

"All right then," Spike said.

Wesley was almost amused of the sudden tension in the room. Spike was trying not to act jealous of him. Of him of all people. Granted, Faith's unexpected revelation put the dynamic of their relationship on a different path, but he still couldn't consider himself any threat for Spike's place in her heart.

He looked thoughtfully at the vampire, making speculations how much he knew about Faith's 'affair'. She had been under the influence of the spell, but ten years was a long time. By the look on Spike's face, he wasn't likely to crack that mystery any time soon.

"I'm going back to my calculations. We'll need another crystal if we want to do this again," Wesley told Faith.

* * *

_A few hours later_

Wesley was doodling distractedly around the result of his seventh consecutive attempt to make sense of the situation. He looked over at the other file, and let his mind wonder over Faith's story. He decided to ignore his apparent part in it.

He let the pencil drop on the desk as the hypothesis unfolded. He explored the thought into the deepest and darkest ramifications he could imagine. Strange as it was, it could explain the time difference between his calculations and the recent events.

He opened the Erised file and placed Faith's map of the mountain next to the one he had annotated according to the prophecies. Not a perfect match, but close enough.

He had to talk to Faith. She was not going to enjoy this conversation. The fact that he had no idea what to do next was not very comforting either.

* * *

_To be continued..._

(sooner than it took for this last update)


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters or the setting of the story. All things I borrowed from the Buffyverse are a creation of and belong to Joss Whedon.

I have also borrowed several ideas and concepts from to J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter books. (the mirror of Erised, the Room of Requirement)

**Timeline**: more than 9years after NFA ("Angel"), 10 after "Chosen" (BtVS)

* * *

Thank you so much for the reviews. Everyone who left feedback is partly responsible for the story getting so far. To those who think that my story is good enough to be on their favorite or alert lists, I'd love to hear from you why you like the story. 

kiwilass - thanks for your prompt and interesting reviews. It's so gratifying to get feedback within minutes of posting a chapter! Also, I love your attention to details. The "pretty much the same thing" line was meant to be a sort of introduction for chapter 2 of "Wanted". (coming soon)

Allen Pitt – you were right. Wesley does know more than the any of the 'Next Generation' Watchers. The thing is that this whole story happens in about a week. It just took me a lot longer to write it. I don't think Wes could bring Connor in the middle of nowhere with a simple phone call. As for Faith, she still doesn't remember Connor. Willow's spell was less powerful than an Orlon Window; it could only dispel mind alterations done in a certain time frame, and Faith was only interested in the time around Alex's conception and early infancy.

Suzy87 – it's great that you think that the triangle works. I was a bit worried about that.

Dreamer of Tales – I'm glad you appreciate my penchant for character exploration.

ncsirspeedlimit – you registered just to review my story. That's one of the nicest praises I have ever received.

* * *

**Chapter 9**

**

* * *

**

Wesley put the kettle on before reaching for the familiar black tea box of Fortnum and Mason's Royal Blend. He was trying to master his emotions before the discussion with Faith. He toyed with the idea of postponing the confrontation until he got another black crystal. He rejected the pretext. Faith had already broken through the spell. She should be perfectly able to talk about events leading up to her visits. The constraint might still work if he asked her about what had happened inside the cave. Inside Wesley, propriety was fighting curiosity on that subject. What could possibly induce Faith to have sex with his facsimile?

"Don't you ever sleep?" Faith asked.

He turned around at the sound of her voice. Her voice was low and husky. She had obviously just woken up. Her hair was such a glorious mess, Wesley thought watching her advance toward him. She put two teaspoons of instant coffee in a mug she held up to him.

"Can I have some hot water?"

As soon as the kettle whistled, he poured hot water over her coffee and his tea.

"I'm glad you're awake," he said sitting across from her at the kitchen table. "We need to talk."

She stifled a yawn.

"More questions, Wes?"

"Yes. And quite a few answers, hopefully."

This statement aroused her interest.

"Are you gonna come clean and admit that it was you all along?" she said with almost sincere levity.

She was probably relieved to finally have someone share her secret. Wesley shook his head sadly.

"I wish that were the case," he said, thinking of the grim reason for the conversation.

Faith grinned delighted and wriggled her eyebrows.

"I bet you wish," she said.

"Oh, no, I didn't mean..." Wesley stammered at her insinuation. "I have some news about the coming darkness," he rallied as best he could from the image of him and Faith in her jail cell.

They both heard the jeep pull in the driveway at the same time. Spike was back. They awaited his entrance in silence.

"Aren't we all creatures of the night," Spike remarked. "Anything interesting going on?"

"Wesley was just saying he's got something about this darkness business," Faith answered.

"Come on then. Let's hear the... are they tidings of joy or not?"

Wesley could feel the hostility in his attitude. He had to contain his own instinctive revulsion. He did not have to be any closer to sense that vampire was warm. He had just fed. There was too much of the old school Watcher in him to be comfortable around a vampire satiated on human blood.

"I want to talk to Faith first," Wesley said.

"The hell you will!"

"The subject is somewhat delicate. I have no intention to keep secret anything that has to do with the Apocalypse, I assure you."

"You can shove your assurance right up..."

"He can stay," Faith interjected.

"It's about the cave," Wes told Faith.

"He can stay," she repeated.

"All right," Wesley accepted, almost relieved that he wouldn't be alone when he broke the news to Faith. "Before I begin, you should know the background," he addressed Spike. "Ten years ago Faith found this cave..."

"I read the file," Spike interrupted him. "Found it ages ago, pet. I had to know, didn't I? Was worried about you disappearing like that all the time," he told Faith.

"That's OK. I guess I should've imagined."

Wesley ran through the content of the file mentally. It did not mention his unexpected and surreal apparition. There was no reason to inform Spike of that fact.

"How often did you go back?" Wesley asked her before the silence could get awkward.

"The first time was ten years ago, as you know. The second time was two years after that. I kept going back six – seven times each year since then."

Faith was looking down at her hands as she spoke. Wesley noticed the thin cuts on her palm. She must have held the crystal so tightly that its edges had dug into her skin. He resisted the impulse to put his palm over hers.

"I though so," Wesley said. "Let me tell you my hypothesis and how I came to it. When I worked at Wolfram and Hart we had a request from the Italian branch of the firm for a triumvirate of wizards. They needed them to enforce the wards of protection around Mount Vesuvius. The legend was that some four thousand years ago a powerful, elemental spirit had tried to take over the world. The sources refer to it as 'the coming fire'. The most powerful mages of the land finally trapped it inside the mountain. The spirit was so powerful that it in about two millennia it managed to erode the constraining magic and turned the mountain into a volcano, covering the city of Pompeii. The mages of that time succeeded in containing it for a second time, and it was stopped from turning the world into a blazing inferno. Another two thousand years after that, the coming fire was breaking free again. Now, the past two millennia have been overpoweringly Christian and the Italians realized that none of their wizards was powerful enough to stop it. So they called us, and we obliged."

"So that's why Ilona was mollycoddling the great poof!" Spike exclaimed.

"Probably. Angel was the one who signed the order for the wizards to go to Italy," Wesley said.

"This was very interesting, Wes, but could you come to our current problem any time soon?" Faith said.

"As far as I remember from what I read in the archives of Wolfram and Hart after the Italians' request, there are several elemental spirits imprisoned all over the world. I read about 'the coming gale' in Egypt, 'the never-ending rain' in China, and apparently we face 'the coming darkness' now."

He stopped to take a drink of water. He was not looking forward to the last part of his lecture.

"So what's it got to do with Faith?" Spike asked.

"These spirits device whatever ways they can to break through their containment spells. 'The coming darkness' is trapped in this mountain, and it transformed a cave into a trap for unwary humans. It gathers its power by feeding on the emotions of the humans who walk into that cave. I guess that room works like a virtual reality room and the spirit animates whatever fears or desires are on the mind of the visitor. Most of the humans who are caught in that trap don't survive."

He fell silent, fiddled with his cup of tea, cleared his throat, tried to phrase the rest as best he could.

"Go on, Wes," Faith prompted.

He looked in her eyes and tried to guess what she was feeling about the other him in the cave. Enough to keep going back year after year. Enough to remain single for a decade.

"All the prophecies lead up to a certain date when this spirit should be ready to break free. And that moment is supposed to come ten years from now."

"What do you mean? Everything's happening now!" Faith said.

"You're not saying that we're in the wrong bloody Apocalypse, are you?" Spike asked.

"No. The thing is... You see, the mages who trapped this spirit the last time, only about five hundred years ago, have woven an intricate web of spells all over this mountain in order to keep people away from the cave. They were aware that it was going to build up strength by feeding on humans. The mountain's packed with spells of confusion, repulsion, turnarounds and fake routes. The cave can only be found by accident and by someone who was quite magic resistant. And they counted on the false certainty that anyone who found the cave would find his death in it. Your map, Faith, is probably the only one in existence. That's why those demons attacked last week. They wanted to unleash it themselves in order to harness its power."

"OK, I think I followed that incredibly long explanation," Faith said. "But why is this happening ten years ahead of schedule?"

"It had more sustenance than it was supposed to. Your visits, Faith. You fed it. Constantly. For eight years."

Faith had turned deathly white. Wesley wished he could hold her hand, do anything to comfort her, to ease her guilt.

"For fuck's sake, couldn't you find a better way to say it?" Spike asked, angry.

"So Alex is... his son?" she asked in a quiet but steady voice.

Wesley didn't have an answer for that. As far as he knew, the spirit was not corporeal. Then again, 'Jasmine' had managed to become corporeal.

"Do you know how to stop it? Do you have a plan?" she asked.

"I have some ideas," Wesley said.

"We'll talk tomorrow. With the girls," she said and walked away.

She stopped when Wesley spoke.

"There's no need to tell them... about you and... Faith, I thought you should know," he pleaded forgiveness. He had harmed people before, having the best intentions.

"You were right. I needed to know."

* * *

"Wes." 

His hand was sliding over silk. He was gradually awakening with the wonderful feel of the smooth fabric beneath his fingers. He was enjoying the texture, the warmth, the softness of the skin. Skin! He startled.

His hand had been caressing Faith's thigh covered by the silk bath robe and his fingers had traveled beyond it. He pulled away his hand hurriedly, and groped for his glasses on the nightstand.

Faith was sitting on the edge of his bed and seemed unaware of his improper, if inadvertent caress.

"I hate to wake you. You haven't been getting enough sleep as it is," she said.

"What's wrong?"

She couldn't be there for anything less than wrong.

"There's something you need to know, too. With all that's coming, I might never get the chance to tell you."

"You can tell me anything," Wesley said.

"Eight years ago, before I went back to the cave... I went to LA and dug up your body. Your old body," she clarified unnecessarily. "I went to a lab and had a DNA comparison. Between you, me and Alex. I know it wasn't you in the cave, OK? It wasn't you in so many ways... but the DNA matched. Whatever magic that spirit can do, it's wicked strong. That man who looked like you and wasn't you, also kind of was you. I'm not asking you anything. Just thought you should know."

"Yes. This is something I should know. Thank you."

She looked at him in the reddish dawn light. Wesley realized she was wondering if he was serious.

"You brought my remains here, didn't you? That's why you were able to bring me back," he said, working out some things that had been unclear to him.

"We passed your grave when we went into the cemetery the other day."

"Why me?"

"You mean... then?"

"Yes. Then. Why was I the most important thing on you mind?"

He took a sip of the tea he had brought up to his room earlier. It had grown cold, but it still felt familiar and comforting. He let the smooth, honey-like flavor sooth his aching throat.

"After you guys took up the Senior partners... we all gathered from all over the world to find out what happened to you. Buffy and the others went at the sight of the last battle. Giles, Robin and I went to Vail's place. We found your body..."

Her gaze fell on his lower abdomen, where he had felt Vail's knife twist in his gut. He saw her hand imperceptibly move, and guessed that she had just restrained the urge to touch that spot.

"I had been thinking about you a lot after we left Sunnydale. Even in Sunnydayle, actually. When I had to be the grown up around the other Slayers. You were so young when you go me and Buffy."

"I wasn't younger than you are now," he said.

"Not the same thing. You had no field experience. I had no book-experience," she said with a smile.

"Is that why you've got my diaries?" he asked.

He had made his voice as soft and unobtrusive as possible. It was his gentle interrogation voice. The tone that simply nudged the speaker in the direction of the information he wanted.

"No, that was after..." she corrected instantly, and stopped just as abruptly.

"After Alex was conceived," he finished her sentence.

Faith tilted her head to the side and looked at him. Wesley accepted the gaze of her dark eyes, amazed that he wasn't feeling vulnerable, laying in bed in a pair of Spike's old pajamas and with the stirrings of a morning stiffie so close to Faith's thigh.

"You sure wrote a lot. I read everything I could find. At first, because I was curios. What kind of man you really were... You know... What Alex could be like when he grew up..."

"Were you disappointed?"

"No!" she exclaimed. "No. You were, you **are** intelligent, you always did what you thought was right, made hard choices, always accepted the consequences."

Wesley was touched. She seemed genuinely impressed with him. He had seen the very thick file she had gathered on him. Faith had had ten years of reading his Watcher diaries, his private diaries, even the very thorough file Wolfram and Hart had compiled. And then there were her visits to the cave. He drank the last of the cold tea, thinking about Faith's deep change of heart in his regards.

Her voice faded away, but her gaze remained fixed on his face.

"Are you wondering what it's like with me?" he asked.

"What!" she exclaimed, taken aback.

"I heard that no two men kiss the same way," he continued on the perilous trail. "If you need to know if there's a difference... feel free to find out."

Before he could add any more taunting she leaned over and kissed him squarely on the lips. He felt her drawing away in no time, and he stuck his left hand in her hair, pulling her roughly back toward him. He hadn't even thought about kissing anyone but Fred for years, but Faith teasing him with such a passionless kiss provoked his dominant nature. He crushed those pouty lips of hers until she let out a faint whimper, which was the signal for the next level.

She tasted of that damned instant coffee, making him wonder how long she had stayed in the kitchen building up the nerve to come and talk to him. Her tongue was entwining eagerly with his. Wesley put his arm around her waist and pulled her on top of him. He was almost sure he was dreaming until Faith jumped out of his bed and ran out of the room.

* * *

_To be contined..._


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters or the setting of the story. All things I borrowed from the Buffyverse are a creation of and belong to Joss Whedon.

I have also borrowed several ideas and concepts from to J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter books. (the mirror of Erised, the Room of Requirement)

**Timeline**: more than 9years after NFA ("Angel"), 10 after "Chosen" (BtVS)

**Beta: Rachael **

* * *

**Chapter 10**

**

* * *

**

Of course she ran away. Wesley closed his eyes, and shook his head. The world was really coming to an end if Faith had been the one to keep her head. He had been somewhat flattered to learn that she had been thinking about him when the cave had 'scanned' her. He had been more than a little intrigued to learn that she had slept with his "evil twin", and not just once, but on a regular basis, for eight years. Strange as that was, at least there was some precedent for her desire. His own lust, however, had been sudden and unexplainable.

It wasn't as if he ha even been thinking about her in a sexual way. No. He was lying. There had always been an undertone of sexuality in the way he had related to Faith. Even during their worst moments.

He was surprised to hear the door opening. She had returned!

"Don't get your hopes up, loverboy. She's not coming back," Spike said.

The vampire sat on the only chair in the room, and lit a cigarette without asking permission. Wesley sat up on the bed, arranged his glasses, and prepared himself for the lecture that was to come.

"About time we had a little chat," Spike said.

Wesley opened his arms in an accommodating gesture.

"Faith and I... we took care of one another for ten years. Kept each other out of trouble, had a few close calls, but always managed to pull through. As long as we were together. Never had that with anyone. Not even with Dru."

Spike didn't say anything for such a long time that Wesley had to jumpstart the conversation again.

"What are you getting at? Are you warning me to stay away from her?"

"No. I have no right to do that. You can think that you know her, but there's a decade of history between the two of us that you know nothing about. I bet she hasn't told you a lot of things. Like the reason why she ran out of your bed just now, for example."

"Was there something to explain? She realized it was a mistake."

Spike looked at him with an amused expression.

"You're a little dense sometimes," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"It might not have been the ideal time and place, but a mistake it was not. She wanted you. She's been edgy ever since you 'came back'. I know she wanted to go through with it."

"Were you listening?" Wesley asked, and the thought of the vampire's preternatural hearing led to an uncomfortable awareness of his probably equally acute sense of smell. He must be stinking of arousal.

"Didn't have to, mate. We're bound by blood."

"Bound," Wesley repeated, wondering why he wasn't more surprised.

"You know what this entails," Spike said gravely.

Wesley nodded. A blood bound between a human and a vampire was the closest thing to siring. The bond was created by a mutual exchange of blood between a vampire and a human. Its purpose and result was that the vampire lent some of his strength to the human and the human lent part of his soul to the vampire. Faith, with her Slayer strength, must have been at death's door to need it.

As far as Wesley knew, the strength of the bond decreased in time, mostly due to the parting of the ways between the two partners. He tried to remember what the books said happened if they remained in such close contact.

"She's a part of me," Spike said, as if answering his question. "I can feel almost everything she feels. It doesn't work all that well the other way round, but it still made us conduct out 'recreational activities' as far from one another as possible."

Some more fog was lifting for Wesley. No wonder the vampire had been awake and had the first aid kit ready when they had come back from the cemetery. No wonder he had been so royally annoyed.

"So you're the reason she ran away earlier?"

"For the most part," Spike said with a shrug. "She knew I could feel everything, and she must've felt I was getting kind of restless. But there's something else. Faith was a lot more carefree about sex when you first met her, when she was seventeen. She's got more to lose now."

Wesley was having a hard time believing he was having this conversation. Faith had always been the cool girl, the bad girl, the sort of girl he hated that he wanted when he was younger. The sort of girl who wouldn't as much as give him a second glance then. The girl who hadn't looked at him. But then he had grown up and grown dark. Then there had been Lilah. And, all of a sudden, catching the eye of a bad girl had become possible. Almost easy.

"How much could you feel when she was inside the cave?" Wesley asked. His curiosity was fueled by the need to get information about their enemy as much as by a more personal interest.

"Nothing at all. Feeling her emotions can get stifling at times. But I got used to it. You can't imagine how frightening was that silence. It felt like one of my arms was cut off. I tried to follow her once or twice, but I got lost every time. Those guys who put the confusion spells on the mountain sure knew their craft."

"Yes, they did. We could use some mages of that caliber when we confront it."

"That bad, huh?"

"We can make it. We've seen worse."

Spike didn't seem to be on the battle ahead.

"You're taking her away from me. I'm trying to accept it, but it's hard. Still, it's better to know her with you than have her stuck in that damn cave."

Wesley didn't know what to reply this. That he had no intention of taking her away? That Faith would never leave the vampire? That she shouldn't? Not for him. That he may be walking and talking, but he was dead inside and, sooner or later, she was going to figure that out and snap out of this unexpected interest?

"Why haven't you two... got together?" Wesley asked just to break the silence.

"Cowards, the both of us. Sex has never brought either of us a lasting happiness before. I guess we never felt strong enough to risk what we had."

"Why did you come here?" Wesley asked.

"Oh. That," Spike said, snapping out of his pensive mood. "You better make sure you're not gonna hurt her. You are not over Fred. I was around enough when you were crazy about her and she didn't see you more than a shoulder to lean on. And I was around when you lost her. You seem to be handling things, but my guess is that you're gonna fall apart sooner or later. Mae damn sure you're not taking Faith down, too."

With that, Spike left.

_'Maybe I am dense sometimes,'_ Wesley thought. _'But most of the time, I am not. And it's Faith will or her cowardice that's keeping you apart.'_

For no good reason, the thought pleased him. Faith had preferred to share her bed with his unearthly twin than with Spike for a decade. That, in no way meant that, if it came to it, she would choose the real him over his doppelganger. Real... Well, as real as a man could be after a resurrection.

He got out of bed, still groggy. After this end of the world, he was going to catch up on his sleep.

* * *

Spike was making breakfast for the young Slayers. Wesley greeted them and went straight for the coffee maker. He was a tea man through and through, but some mornings simply screamed for coffee. 

"How's the throat, Wesley?" Eliana asked. "You look like you have a collar," she grinned as she informed him helpfully.

"Better, thank you," he answered. "I thought it was Faith's turn to make breakfast?" he said, sensing something askew in the routine.

Wesley looked at Spike inquiringly. The vampire was the very picture of the innocence as he worked diligently over the stove. He drank his coffee in silence, thinking about this piece of information. Faith was worried about her son's safety. That was only natural. But she should have kept him close, where she could protect him herself, not send him to Xander Harris, who happened to be also living on a Hellmouth. What had made her suddenly decide to send Alex away?

Did she think that Alex was in danger because now that she had discovered his connection with the darkness? That was enough of a reason, but Wesley went further in his suppositions. Had Faith imagined that his plan involved harming Alex in any way? He couldn't feel terribly hurt that she would think so. After all, he had considered how they could use Alex's origin to their advantage in the coming battle. He had been spared the horror of the decision when he found no advantage in sacrificing the boy for the greater good.

On this premise, Spike's visit to his room was beginning to look like a distraction, so that Faith would have time to leave the house with Alex. Could they fear him that much? His magical abilities were not at the level to pose a threat to a Slayer or a vampire.

No. He complicated things needlessly. He was adding a useless dose of egomania to the useful measure of paranoia that had always been a trusted ally.

He found himself regretting the boy's absence. He was surprise to realize he had come to think of the boy as a friend. He was glad to be relieved of the choice of using his magical abilities in the big battle.

Wesley had taught Alex some basic spells and was surprised to discover that the boy had a huge innate magical potential. He had thought that the child had gotten it from Faith, but in the light of the previous night's revelations, he had had to reconsider the point. Still, no matter how powerful he was, he was better off away from this Hellmouth. Wesley only hoped that she hadn't sent him into danger instead of away from it.

* * *

Faith came back around lunchtime. Wesley watched her avoiding him like... he was going to say like a high school girl, but Faith had been bereft of a typical childhood and teenage years. She was hardly attending school when Kendra's death activated her as Slayer. 

He kept watching her, trying to figure out how much the previous night's multiple revelations had changed her attitude toward him. He was not watching her willowy figure, or her graceful movements, or the way the long dark ringlets of her hair bounced around her shoulders, or...

He was losing his mind. They were hours away from a monumental battle, everyone was waiting for him to make a summation of their predicament and options, and he was looking at Faith as if he saw her for the first time. He had to get it together. He gave up denying the attraction, promised himself to explore both his feelings and hers once the danger was over. With that, he built a wall around the Faith sex issue, and brought the full measure his intellect to the battle.

Wesley waited for all five of them to gather in the office. He summed up what he knew and what he supposed about their enemy, leaving aside the aspects relating to Faith and Alex without difficulty. He ended the exposition with his conclusions.

"Therefore, as long as it is still trapped inside the mountain, it is within our ability to stop it. If it breaks containment, we do not have the power to stop it."

"Clearly, we should attack it as soon as possible," Faith addressed him for the first time that day. "But since it is not corporeal, and it does not materialize until it breaks containment, what do you suggest we do?"

"There is a way. Do you remember that the Master, the ruler of the Order of Aurelius, was mystically trapped inside the Sunnydale Hellmouth? I think we can do something like that."

"And you think **this **is within our abilities? That must have been a wicked powerful spell," Grace said. "Do you think you're strong enough in magick to cast it?" she asked.

"Not even close," Wesley answered with a smile. "I was considering something far simpler. We know that it is vulnerable to magical fire. And we know the place where it was able to tear through the fabric of the wards. So, if we place a _Semper Ardens_ salamander inside the cave, it should keep it from getting out."

"A what salamander?" Grace asked.

"The magical salamander is a fire elemental creature. A _Semper Ardens_ salamander is a species that, once it is activated, burns forever. It was engineered by a fifth century wizard. Wolfram and Hart were trying to corner the American market before we took over."

"That's it? Will it work?" Eliana exclaimed.

"It's not as easy as it seems," Faith said. "For one thing, we don't even have the salamander."

"And for another, the cave is guarded," Spike added.

Everyone looked at him.

"I was at a poker game in the back of DeVille's. There was a new guy, who, once he got well and truly drunk, started talking about this calling he's had, to come here and protect a cave in the mountain, and if he did so he would never have to worry about the sun again. I did some more snooping around, and it turns out that a not-so-small army of vampires passed through town."

"How come we didn't notice them?" Faith asked.

"They weren't causing any trouble. They were heading straight into the mountain," Spike answered.

"Not good news. Only vampires?" Faith asked.

"As far as I know," Spike said.

"Telepathic calling," Wesley muttered, his nose already buried in a thick tome.

"And you didn't hear anything?" Miranda asked.

"Because of the soul, probably," Wesley answered her instead. "This changes things."

"Not really. We can fight vampires. If the darkness breaks free, we're going to have a lot more and a lot worse vamps on our hands," Faith stated.

"She's right," Eliana said. "We are just going to have to make a path through them. Only one has to get inside and place the salamander."

"We still don't a have salamander," Miranda said.

"Hmm? Oh, yes, the salamander," Wesley said, raising his head from the book. "Should be here by tonight. I ordered one on eBad a few days ago."

"You know of eBad," Faith said, incredulous. "It wasn't around when you were alive."

"Actually, it was. Wolfram and Hart bought it from this failed wizard who started it as a scam, and turned it into a quasi-legitimate business under one of their subsidiaries."

"So, when the salamander arrives... we can go into battle?" Grace asked.

"We should ascertain the position and number of the vampires who guard the cave," Wesley said.

"I should go. Pretend I was called, too. Slayers as you are, they're going to sense you long before you get close enough to stake them," Spike said.

"It's too dangerous. They know you," Faith told Spike. "Isn't there any way we can do that without actually facing them?" she asked Wesley.

"There is a spell. It shows the location of every demon on a map," he answered.

"We'll do that then," Faith said.

"It might not work. That area is full of confusion spells," Wesley said.

"I'm going tonight," Spike said. "I'll call you as soon as I know anything. Those confusion spells don't mess with cell phones, do they?" he asked Wesley.

"They probably don't," Wesley said.

The vampire stood up to leave, but before he took even a step toward the door, the girls flocked around him. All three of them hugged him. At first one by one, then all of three of them. They surrounded him in a warm, loving embrace.

Wesley watched the scene, moved against his will. He had to admit that Spike was a champion. The vampire was too well known as a traitor to his kind to have a decent chance of passing for one of them. He knew it as well as Wesley himself that the best he could hope for was to be able to send them the information they needed.

"Take care, Spike," the girls kept telling him.

The young Slayers left the office with the vampire. Faith hadn't followed him. She hadn't wished him luck. But then again, she didn't need to do that. Spike could feel everything. There was no need for words.

Wesley looked at her. She seemed calm, but he could swear that she was fighting to contain a storm of emotions. He avoided her gaze, unwilling to glimpse the fear in it.

"Are there any special instructions on handling the salamander?" she asked.

"I don't think you should be the one to take it in the cave," he said softly.

"Who then? You?"

"Yes."

"Between the two of us, I'm the one who got out of it before," Faith said.

"It let you. Because it needed you to go back."

"Let's call it a precaution then," she said. "Just in case something happens to you and you can't go all the way. We should all know."

"All right," he agreed, knowing that he was going to do whatever it took to finish the mission. Because he didn't need to come back. Faith's life weighed so much more than his. He was living on borrowed time, anyway.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters or the setting of the story. All things I borrowed from the Buffyverse are a creation of and belong to Joss Whedon.

Extra disclaimer: It's another action-packed chapter. It seemed to me like the sort of thing that used to happen in the season finales of Buffy and Angel. Again, I'm not in my element writing action, but the story needed it. Hope there isn't some plot hole or something monumentally flawed that I couldn't see. If there is, please let me know and I'll work around it. Btw, I went back and tried to make chapter 4 work.

There are a couple of curses in this chapter. Should I up the rating?

**Timeline**: more than 9years after NFA ("Angel"), 10 after "Chosen" (BtVS)

Rachael, thanks for giving me the confidence to post this chapter!

* * *

**Chapter 11**

**

* * *

**

Wesley put on the few gadgets he had managed to manufacture since his resurrection. The retractable blade and spike were hidden in their sheaths. He buttoned up his shirt and went into the main office. The salamander case was on the desk just as he had left it. He took the crossbow off the wall and placed it neatly next to the case.

He settled in his chair and picked at random one of the books on the desk. He opened it, trying to lose himself in it, wishing to forget about the impending battle, needing to forget about the new situation with Faith. He could feel he was not going to make it back alive, so there was no point in trying to figure out what she meant to him. He kept his eyes firmly set on the pages, denying the urge to look at the chair across the desk from him, the chair where Alex usually sat. His son... Or as close to a son as he would ever get.

"That must be some book," Faith said, sounding amused. "Watcha readin'?" she asked, flopping into Alex's chair.

"What?"

He realized he had no idea what he had been reading. When he looked at Faith, he saw Faith smiling. Spike must be all right, he assumed. He felt again a sting of jealousy. He shook it off. He was not going to waste any energy feeling envious of a relationship the likes of which he had never had, nor was he ever going to cultivate, even if he had a future in which to do so.

"Spike's almost there. We should get going as soon as the girls are done," she said.

His first reaction was to say that they should wait for the information, and then leave, but time was of the essence. They could get the information on route just as well. They were all in contact. They had checked the earpieces, the link, the channels on which they could transmit, collectively and individually. _Vive la technologie!_

Besides, the sooner they got there, the better chance Spike had to survive. He was surprised of that last thought. Collateral damage, casualty of war, dying for a good cause, expendable... He wondered where had those sane concepts gone. He was concerned about the fate of a vampire now? They must have brought him back wrong. An almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he nodded to Faith.

* * *

In the car, Wesley repeated, at popular demand, the procedure of placing the salamander in the cave and activating it. 

"The salamander should be placed at the focal point of the magic leak. This point can be situated anywhere inside the cave. We can assume that it is situated where the illusions are more intense. The coming darkness will probably throw everything it's got to dissuade the carrier of the salamander."

"How will it know what we have in the case?" Grace asked.

"It has the ability to scan at least the mind of anyone who enters the cave," Wesley said, omitting again to tell them how he knew that. "It will know the reason for the intrusion and it will also know everything about the past and mental wiring of the intruder. It can probably manifest anything it glimpses in our mind that could distract, stop or hurt."

He watched Faith with the corner of his eye. She seemed intent on the road ahead and had not flinched at the mention of the mind scan.

"Sounds messy. We're gonna hold the line outside the cave until you get it done," Eliana said.

"We should leave the car," Faith said interrupting the conversation. "The road narrows from here."

Wesley pulled over, gave the salamander case to Miranda, slung the crossbow on his back and followed Faith into the woods.

He glanced at his wristwatch. It was barely past midnight. If they got there before dawn, the battle was going to be vicious. He almost did not want to hear from Spike exactly how high were stacked the odds against them. A wide range telepathic calling from a powerful entity could have gotten a staggering number of responses.

* * *

About an hour later, Spike's whispered voice sounded in their ears. 

"You should call for backup. There are over two hundred vampires here. And that's just the ones I can feel. More can be on their way even as we speak. Don't come here alone. Call whoever it takes. Call the sodding Watchers' Council if you have to."

Wesley watched Faith's reaction. She wasn't worried. That meant Spike's cover was still intact. Maybe he wasn't quite as legendary as they had all thought. Wesley motioned to his companions to remain quiet.

"All right, Spike. Get back now. When you can talk without being observed, tell us about their location. We can sketch a plan of attack before the cavalry gets here."

"OK," Spike said and broke the connection.

"Why didn't you tell him? You want to go back home?" Eliana asked.

"No point in going back. If so many vampires have already gathered, it means the perpetual darkness is imminent. Spike shouldn't know how close we are because he would worry and the others would be able to smell it. That would be as good as painting a target on his chest," Wesley explained. "How far are we from the cave?" he asked Faith.

Faith didn't answer right away. She was looking at him with an expression that, in the dimness of the night, he thought showed admiration? affection? trust? No time for that sort of questions, he chided himself. No thinking about Faith's feelings for him, if there were any real ones.

"A couple more hours at least."

Dammit, Wesley thought. They would still be there before daybreak. Two hundred vampires against four Slayers, and, with luck, a Master vampire. He did not count himself among the fighters. His job was to sneak inside the cave, not mow vamps.

"We're going to have to set up a diversion. As soon as Spike gives us details about their position. They're likely to have sentinels posted. With their senses, the can probably notice us long before we're aware of them."

He saw the scared looks and he went on hurriedly.

"However, the spells of confusion still work, and since they're more susceptible to magic than you are, that won't count for much. We can assume they cannot communicate with each other as easily as us..."

"Why not?" Eliana asked.

"They're probably not organized. They were all called, but they don't know each other."

"So we can take them out if we encounter smaller groups," Eliana said.

"We have to take out every vampire we encounter, so no one can get back and sound the alarm."

"Aren't they going to know something's wrong if the sentinels don't report?"

"With a little luck, they're going to be taken in by the diversion."

"If everything goes smoothly, they fall for the diversion, we give you enough time to place the salamander, then what? We still have about two hundred vamps to deal with, right? Maybe we should've called for backup," Grace said.

"If everything goes smoothly, the sun would be up by then, and the vamps aren't going to be much trouble" Wesley said.

"And Spike?" Miranda asked.

Good question, Wesley thought. We still have the salamander case to carry his ashes, his dark sense of humor suggested.

"We'll find a way," Faith said determinately.

She had been so quiet that Wesley was beginning to worry, about her determination to put an end to the magic in the cave, about Spike's safety. When she spoke, Wesley thought he could almost feel the bond between her and her vampire.

Wesley remembered Spike's words. _'Faith and I... we took care of one another for ten years. Kept each other out of trouble, had a few close calls, but always managed to pull through. As long as we were together.'_

They would find a way out. They obviously had before. Spike had bonded Faith to him, gave up part of his strength for her. How far would she go for him? Wesley shook his head. That was not going to be his problem. He would be resting in peace by then. In peace or in hell.

They all heard Spike's voice at the same time.

"You have the map in front of you?" Spike asked.

"Yes," Wesley answered promptly. He had the map clear in his mind, and probably so did Faith.

"There's a large group stationed right outside the cave. More than a hundred, I think. Then there are a few patrols roaming the mountain. The fucking spells are messing with my head! I could've sworn they were west from here, but I'm going east – at least I think I'm going east – back the way I came and I almost ran into one. Oh, fuck!"

The last exclamation was followed by several indistinct noises and a long series of colorful curses from Spike.

"What happened?" the girls asked in one breath.

Wesley caught his foot in the root of tree as he studied Faith's reaction. She caught him and steadied him instinctively. She wasn't worried.

"I fell," Spike's voice came back.

"Ever the graceful vampire," Grace said, her tone filled with relief.

"Brat," Spike commented.

Wesley slowed down his pace, and switched to a private channel and addressed only Faith.

"Can you locate him?"

"Usually," she answered. "I'll try."

Wesley watched Faith in the silvery moonlight. She stood perfectly still, and closed her eyes. She was so beautiful. Yes, this was the perfect time for that observation!

"Damn!" she exclaimed. "He's moving away from us. He got lost."

"Can he focus on you and come toward us?" Wesley asked, already guessing the answer.

"Probably. He's gonna be pissed that you lied to him," Faith said.

"A risk I'm willing to take. Tell him to come toward you."

Faith nodded and hurried forward, leaving Wesley alone. He didn't hear the conversation between Spike and her, but the vampire soon addressed him on a private channel.

"You bastard son of a bitch! I'm gonna beat the crap out of you for this. I'm gonna hang you from your lying tongue. I'm gonna bleed you for days. They'll find pieces of you for weeks. What kind of man are you to risk their lives like this? Cocksucking motherfucking piece of shit!"

Another good question. What kind of man was he, to lead four young women to their death? Yes, he hoped that they were going to survive, but that didn't count for shit when he was marshaling them in a fight where the forces were so severely mismatched. 

Using the common frequency, Wesley shared his scheme for the diversion with the rest of the group. He asked Grace and Eliana to deliver the 'smoke and mirrors' to the western side of the cave. Once the explosives and the glamours-in-a-box he had ordered on eBad were set, they should double back in a wide arch, avoiding the vamps as much as they could. Faith, Miranda and hopefully Spike, were going to stay put on the south of the cave, poised to move toward the vampires who remained to guard the entrance to the cave, leaving Wesley free to slip by them from the south-east.

Wesley shuddered thinking about the lucky timing the plan needed in order to work. He had been alive for about three weeks, and this was the best he could come up with? If he had found out about the imminence of the danger maybe he... No. Too late now. They had to make it work.

* * *

Spike caught up with them around 2a.m. Wesley was grateful for the darkness, because the look in Spike's eyes was the last thing he wanted to see.

* * *

Less than an hour till sunrise. 

The glamours came to life in the distance. Grace and Eliana made contact while they were trying to make their way back as far from the multitude of vampires who were rushing toward the fake attack.

Faith, Spike and Miranda engaged the remaining vamps, maneuvering them away from the cave entrance.

Wesley advanced like a shadow toward the entrance. He did not look back. He was already heavily ridden with guilt and desperation. He steeled himself for the worse. The mind scan was going to find his weak spots. His only defense was going to be self awareness. Nothing inside the cave was real.

* * *

As soon as he stepped in, the entrance disappeared. The first figure he saw was Faith. Seventeen years old Faith, wearing the pink dress the Mayor had given her. Faith, apparently innocent. Faith, eager to be accepted, loved, taught. 

"Is this the best you could come up with?" Wesley said with a bitter laughter.

Faith walked came near him. Wesley expected her to attack him, to grab the case, to stab him, to slap him. He was too tense. When she reached out and touched his face with the tips of her fingers, he startled embarrassingly.

He saw her lips tremble. He saw her trying to form words. He saw her fighting to understand what she was feeling.

"Yes, Faith. You could have been a good girl. You deserved more from me."

The only way to defend himself against the illusions was to acknowledge them. The illusion was damn near perfect. It was, after all, created from his own perception, his own memories. When the two small tears slid from her eyes, Wesley was in danger of losing it. The need to drop the case and put his arms around her, the urge to cup her face and wipe the tears with his thumbs almost overtook his reason.

"But that was a long time ago, and it cannot be changed, even if you were her. You are not."

She did not disappear in a puff of smoke. She only looked hurt, and withdrew her hands from his face.

Wesley walked away from her, the effort of not turning his head to look at her draining him.

He was wondering why the cave itself hadn't changed into a particular setting as it had for Faith, when he saw a desk and a leather chair behind it. When the chair swiveled around, Lilah Morgan smiled at him.

"Hello, lover," she said.

Her voice, perfect in every nuance.

"Hello, Lilah," he said tired. "How's the neck?" he asked, hoping that the rudeness would make this particular ghost fade faster.

"Fine. Hurts a little in bad weather. Feels like someone cut off my head. How's yours?"

"I don't have time for this," Wesley said,

Lilah looked at her watch.

"I should have thought you were playing for time. You are counting on the dawn to save your posse, aren't you?"

The words chilled him to the core. Had he made a mistake? He had based even his worst case scenario on the certainty that daylight turned vampires to dust.

"I always loved to see the little wheels turning in that devilishly handsome head of yours. The boys outside came a long way to defend the cave because they were promised eternal night."

The image of the girls' bodies torn limb from limb by dozens of vampires invaded his mind before he could stop it. Faith... No. This did not change anything. If he stopped the darkness from getting out, sunlight was going to protect them.

He moved toward Lilah. He saw a corridor behind her. He did not slow down when he heard Justine's voice.

_"The great Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, the shining beacon of all that's good and pure."_

Roger Wyndham-Pryce came out of a shadow and caught Wesley's free arm. Wesley's grip tightened on the salamander case while he pulled away from his father. More and more people he has let down or hurt in his past appeared in his path, but Wesley continued undaunted. None of them threw him like Faith had.

Connor, Angel, Buffy, Rupert Giles, Daniel Holtz, Lorne, Gunn.

Wesley sped up his pace knowing who was not there. He buried the memory deeper than any other, but he knew that he had not hidden it deep enough, he would never be able to hide it deep enough.

Looking at the floor, he noticed it was black, a dark mist floated throughout the cave, like an immaterial blanket. He turned his head to the place where the entrance was. It had reappeared. The darkness was flowing out. If he didn't activate the salamander soon, the darkness would win.

His conviction was renewed. Once again, he started to walk among the ghost of his past. He was pushing Lorne from his path and was about to get the salamander out of its case when he saw her.

Fred.

'Not real!' his brain screamed, but his hand froze in mid motion.

Wesley walked toward her. He would just look at her once, and then he'd activate the salamander. She was always going to be his greatest weakness. The source of the darkness was there, next to her. He was going to go to her, act all crazy in love, and just when his lips were on hers, he would end it all.

"We could have been together forever," Fred said. "If you came here alone, we could have lived happily ever after."

Wesley never got the chance to reply. He felt the sword go through his chest before he even saw her hand move. The salamander case fell from his hand. The other figures grabbed him and threw him back toward the entrance. He fell into the rising dark mist.

He looked to the exit. The darkness was flowing out even faster. He gathered his strength and tried to crawl back. Justine knelt next to him, knife once again at his throat. The swish of the blade... skin being slashed, blood gushing... Pain... Darkness enveloping him from inside and out.

He saw the hem of Faith's pink dress. Faith, Alex, the girls... he crawled a few more inches. The dark mist was rising. He never saw Angel's foot. He just felt the savage kicks, in his face, in his gut.

Wesley knew he was not going to make it. He had never accepted that his death would not stop other deaths. He had never accepted that he was going to lose.

* * *

_to be continued..._


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters or the setting of the story. All things I borrowed from the Buffyverse are a creation of and belong to Joss Whedon.

**Timeline**: more than 9years after NFA ("Angel"), 10 after "Chosen" (BtVS)

Beta: Rachael, thank you!

**Feedback**: review please! or the last chapters might stay in my head for a looong time.

* * *

**Chapter 12**

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* * *

**

_He looked to the exit. The darkness was flowing out even faster. He gathered his strength and tried to crawl back. Justine knelt next to him, knife once again at his throat. The swish of the blade... skin being slashed, blood gushing... Pain... Darkness enveloping him from inside and out._

_He saw the hem of Faith's pink dress. Faith, Alex, the girls... he crawled a few more inches. The dark mist was rising. He never saw Angel's foot. He just felt the savage kicks, in his face, in his gut._

_Wesley knew he was not going to make it. He had never accepted that his death would not stop other deaths. He had never accepted that he was going to lose._

_

* * *

_

His last minutes. He had to make them count. Wesley ignored the pain, switched on his transmitter and made his choice.

"Spike, get in the cave. You have to activate the salamander."

Angel was still kicking him, but Wesley kept his eyes open until he saw the neon bright hair of the vampire. He hoped it wasn't another trick of the cave. He held the blue eyes trying to distinguish between reality and illusion, then pointed toward the corridor where he had dropped the case.

Spike shoved Angel aside as he ran passed. Wesley expected the beating to continue, but it did not. He looked around the cave. The mist was swirling off the floor. And he was alone. He pressed his hand over the neck wound. Blood gushed from it, trickling between his fingers. He couldn't even see the wound in his chest. He could only feel the pain. His breath was labored. The sword had probably pierced a lung. He waited for the taste of blood in his mouth. When that would come, it was the end.

He rolled on his back. Was this all just an illusion? How did the nightmare theory went? If you died in your sleep... If you died in the Matrix... But he knew it was not an illusion. Unlike the First, inside the cave, the Darkness had the power to give physical form to its illusions. Alex was the proof, after all. Alex... Faith...

He hadn't even been aware he had closed his eyes until he felt the running steps, but he was not seeing who had come.

"Wesley!"

Faith's shout jolted him from the drowsiness. She fell hard to her knees next to him. She put her palm on his neck over his own bloodied hand.

"Don't fucking die on me, Wes!" she said. "Don't you dare fucking die!"

Wesley wished he could oblige. He wished he could talk. Tell her something worth remembering. Tell her she was a good person, she was a great Slayer, a wonderful mother. Tell her she deserved to be happy.

At the same time, he wanted to know how the battle was going, why had she left the fight, how were the other girls. He wanted to tell her to go help Spike.

Spike...

He strained to hear any signs of Spike's progress. As if from a great distance, Wesley heard Spike's voice.

"You look good, Slayer."

A short pause and than a thump. The thump of a body hitting the floor. For a confused second, Wesley thought Spike had fell in the trap, just as he had fallen, but he realized that the vampire would've turned to dust if he was dead. More dead anyway.

Wesley's eyes were slowly closing again. He felt Faith's shallow breathing as she cradled his head in her arms. He heard her whispered confession, and that made his death a thousand times worse.

"Don't die, Wes. We'll get you out of here. Get you to a hospital. We'll call a healer. Fight, damn you! We put our souls on the line for you. If you die now, Spike and I will lose half our soul each. We gave you our souls, damn it! That's gotta count for something. We survive. You do the same! For us! If you die, Wes... We gave you the best of ourselves. If you die, you leave two monsters in the world. Come on, Watcher. Fight. Just hang on for one. more. second."

Was she crying? Not Faith. Her soul... Spike's hard earned soul... He had been such a fool. There's no such thing as nothing left to lose.

"No instant cure in that backpack of yours?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.

She let out a short laugh.

"Scotch," she said.

"What happened?" Grace's voice came out on the common frequency.

"Wes is hurt," Faith said, her voice trying to feign calm, and failing.

"Fuck. Is he dead?" Grace asked.

The sounds of the battle were not just background noise. They muffled the girl's voice.

"No," Faith answered.

"Smear some Mohra blood on him and get back out here!" Miranda interjected.

"What?" Faith said sharply. "Do you have any?"

"There should be a vial in your backpack," Miranda said.

Faith rummaged desperately through the multitude of items. Wesley smiled. That backpack of hers really had everything. Seconds later, she was prying his hand away from his neck. Wesley felt the cold fluid dripping on the open wound. Then the tingling of the tissue regenerating. He heard Faith cursing under her breath as she was ripping open his shirt. She was pouring dark blood on her palm. Wesley gripped her hand.

"Don't use it all," he told her.

"What? Why?"

"Just don't. Trust me."

She spread the greenish blood over his chest, making sure she covered the entire wound.

"Any others?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"Thanks."

"Yeah," she said, and got up.

Wesley raised an arm, asking for her help to get up. Faith grabbed his wrist and pulled him up. Her hand was sticky with his blood and that of the demon, but Wesley gripped it hard. He realized that he did not want to let it go. Not a good time for that. _It's not always about holding hands. _Really not a good time for that.

They both ran toward the exit. The place was swarming with vampires. Faith threw herself into the mêlée without hesitation. Wesley's head was still spinning from the blood loss. He made the decision to sound the retreat.

"Everyone get inside the cave!" he ordered on the common frequency. "Hold the entrance."

He was betting their lives on the success of his plan. He saw the dark mist rising like steam from the thicker cover that kept pouring out from the cave. It had already covered the sky above the forest. He looked at his watch. It was past daybreak. The reddish nuances of the sunrise were nowhere to be seen. The air was gray and it was getting darker by the second.

Wesley stayed until he saw the girls coming toward him, and ran back in the cave. He had a hard time finding his way in the darkness. He managed to find the corridor. He saw that Spike had taken the salamander out of the case. He was surrounded by people Wesley did not recognize. They were all holding weapons. Before Wesley got the chance to do anything to distract them, Spike activated the salamander.

"Sorry, Nibblet," Spike said, placing the salamander by the body of a teenage girl with long brown hair.

Wesley recognized the dead girl as Dawn Summers. The girl's neck was twisted at an unnatural angle. The salamander flared, and the cave shook. The figures surrounding Spike lost their consistence. The mist stopped flowing. The magical fire rose higher. It became a pillar of fire, with the salamander as its base. The thin pillar became a rapidly thickening column. The vampire was not moving. He kept staring at the fading silhouette of the girl while the flames were growing closer and closer.

"Spike!" Wesley shouted.

The vampire snapped out of his reverie. He looked at the fire, and than ran toward Wesley. They both left the room in which the fire kept growing.

Wesley hoped he had calculated correctly the diameter of the salamander fire. It would be a bitch to get so far, and be turned to ashes by your own device.

In the outer room of the cave, the four girls were dusting the vampires who dared to get inside the cave. Wesley looked down and was relieved to notice that the dark mist hovering over the floor was dissipating. He followed Spike and joined the girls' efforts to keep the vampires outside. In a matter of minutes, came the sweet sound of bodies turning to ashes.

"Weren't you dying?" Spike asked, turning to Wesley.

"I got better," Wesley answered. "How did that Mohra blood get into Faith's backpack?" he asked Miranda.

"Alex ordered it on eBad after your little demonstration in the kitchen," the girl answered. "I thought he told you," she addressed Faith.

Faith shook her head.

"He was kind of annoyed I shipped him off to Xander," Faith said.

The six of them stood in silence for a while, gazing at the wonderful image of the early morning light. The soft summer wind blew away the piles of ashes sprinkled all around the clearing.

"They're probably not all gone," Wesley said. "Some might still be hiding in the forest."

"Yeah, but we have the advantage in the daylight," Eliana said.

"True," Wesley agreed.

He wondered about Spike. How was he going to make it all the way to the car? The path to the cave had been quite difficult. Maybe he could walk with his duster over his head, but if they were attacked...

There was, of course, the alternative of the Mohra blood. Even in his weakened state he had remembered the story Angel had once told him, when the vampire was in the depths of his broodiness over their work at Wolfram and Hart. Theory went that if a vampire's blood mingled with the blood of a Mohra demon, the vampire's body would be revived, but in the form of a zombie. However, when this had happened to Angel, the first known souled vampire, he had turned human. Now, Spike had a soul, but, after Faith's story of their halved souls, he stood a fifty-fifty chance to become human.

There was no urgency anymore. They should leave while the sun was still in the sky, but they did not need to leave right away.

Wesley found himself developing plans for the future. His mind was already drifting days ahead, at the patrols they had to set in order to cleanse the mountain of vampires. The smart ones among them would probably scurry away, but the spells of confusion were going to make it difficult for them. It was strange that the Slayers, whose blood was rich with power and magic, were not susceptible to these spells.

He hauled his mind back to the present. Why was he hesitant to tell Spike about the effects of the Mohra blood?

A ray of sunlight shone on Faith's hair. Beautiful, rich, dark brown. Wesley thought about passing his fingers through it. He smiled noticing that her hair had lost its usual silkiness during the night's events. He could see congealed blood in her locks, red blood and green blood. The difference between life and death for him.

Was that why he was hesitating? He was afraid that human Spike would be even more competition for her heart? This train of thought made him uncomfortable. It was still not a good time to think about that. He took the plunge and told Spike about the Mohra blood.

Faith took the vial out of her backpack. It was smeared with Wesley's blood. She looked from the vial to Wesley. She had again that expression he couldn't quite read. Or didn't dare to. When she looked at him like that, Wesley's world was turning upside down.

"Fifty-fifty's not good enough," Spike said.

Wesley realized he was not surprised. Angel had refused to stay human despite having much better reason to want to give up his vampire nature.

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They made it to the car more or less intact. About a dozen vamps attacked them, but only in groups of two or three at a time. The Slayers hardly broke a sweat in dealing with them. Wesley tried to fire his crossbow a couple of times, but the wound in his chest, though rapidly healing, still hurt and it had ruined his aim. 

It took them a few hours to get back to the house. As soon as Faith parked the car, Wesley went straight to his room and fell asleep before he his head hit the pillow. He had promised himself that he would catch up on his sleep after the Apocalypse, and his body was collecting on the promise.

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_To be continued..._


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters or the setting of the story. All things I borrowed from the Buffyverse are a creation of and belong to Joss Whedon.

**Timeline**: more than 9years after NFA ("Angel"), 10 after "Chosen" (BtVS)

**Beta: Rachael, **thank you

**Feedback: please, review!** You know who I mean. You have this story listed as favorite, or you have it on story alert, or I'm on your author alert. Must mean it's good enough to deserve a review.

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**Chapter 13**

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Wesley woke up feeling rested and thoroughly dirty. The blood he had so liberally shed the previous day had dried on his clothes and on his skin. The wounds were turning to new scars that were itching. He needed to shower very, very badly.

As soon as he got into the bathroom, he pulled off his clothes letting them fall in a pile on the floor. He let the warm water work its magic on his battered body. The wounds had fortunately closed, but they were hurting as much as the many bruises. He smiled at the memory of his friends kicking him when he was down. The smile faded as he began to wonder where they were, or if they were still alive.

He let his mind drift beginning to soap himself. Out of all the memories of his recent and his distant past, the one person that appeared most often was Faith. And out of all his memories of her, there was one stolen glance that had accompanied him throughout the years. He'd always treasured that image, his dirty little secret, his solace in lonely nights, the fantasy he painted over the casual liaisons. When Faith was seventeen, and in his care, he had accidentally entered the locker room where she was changing her clothes after one of their few training sessions. In his defense, it had been the boys' locker room. The part he could not defend, not even to himself, was that he had stayed hidden and watched her.

He started stroking himself as the fantasy began playing again on the screen behind his eyelids. Soon, the teenaged Faith was replaced by the woman who had kissed him two nights earlier. His hand froze on his cock when he realized what he was doing. Thinking of his young Slayer had been, shady as it was, sort of routine. He had thought of the idealized Faith as one would think of a pin up model. This time, it was a real, flesh and blood woman he was fantasizing about. The kiss he had just played in his mind had actually happened. The mere memory of the way her mouth had felt against his caused him to grow harder.

Wesley squeezed his eyes tighter and resumed stroking himself. He let his mind unfold an alternative scenario of what happened the other night.

_His hand slid over the silk of her night robe, then over her silky skin. He dared go further up her inner thigh, all the way up, between her legs. She wasn't wearing any underwear. His fingers touched the smooth skin delicately, dipped into the wetness eagerly. _

"Spread", he whispered aloud. The word resonated strangely in the empty bathroom.

_Fantasy Faith was sitting on the edge of his bed. She spread her legs, allowing him room to maneuver. She was panting along with him, her little moans spurring him on to bolder and bolder touches._

"Come up here, Faith," he told her, _shoving the tented sheet aside. He was hard and ready for her. _

_Fantasy Faith obeyed him without a word. _Wesley gripped his cock harder imagining F_aith impaling herself on him. She began moving up and down his hardness, slowly at first, then faster, and faster. Different faces superimposed briefly over Faith's, like a fast slide show. Buffy, Fred, Virginia, Dawn, Lilah. They all faded, leaving only, always Faith. It's her face he saw while on the rapids of the first orgasm he had in a very long time._

"God, Faith!" he rasped spraying the bathroom wall forcefully.

He was still shaking while he finished his shower. He rinsed the vestiges of his orgasm off the bathroom wall before he got out.

When he arrived in the kitchen, he could barely bring himself to meet Faith's gaze. The shock, however, came from Spike. The vampire was grinning mischievously. When he gave Wesley a wink the Watcher turned a delicate shade of purple. Could Spike somehow still smell what he had just done, even after the shower? Did he hear him? God! If he heard, he must have heard him groan Faith's name as he came.

Wesley grabbed a cup of coffee and started piling up food on his plate. He was eating while his mind began to shift into gear. He could understand thinking about Faith as he wanked off. God forgive him, but he'd done it before, when he had been too drunk, or too lonely to keep that particular fantasy behind the iron bars of his will. He could sort of understand the succession of flashes of the women in his past. He didn't like to admit it, but he'd occasionally fantasized about Buffy Summers. No way near as often or as intensely as he had done about Faith, but it had happened. Embarrassing, but explainable. The image he could not understand was that of Dawn Summers. She was about twelve in his fading fake memories, but the woman he'd briefly seen in his fantasy had been older. He had seen her like that only once. Yesterday, in the cave. Spike's last obstacle! His greatest weakness.

Wesley looked again at the vampire. This time, there was no embarrassment in his gaze. Only inquiry. What exactly did it mean that he and Faith had given him part of their souls?

Later that day, Wesley said his goodbyes to the young Slayers, noting with surprise that they had been almost as emotional as they were with Spike.

He retired in the main office and started researching the spell Faith and Spike had used to bring him back. He went straight for the very thick "W.W.-Pryce" file. Sure enough, the information was there. He removed the pages concerning the spell. With the papers in his hand he started perusing the library. He pulled out one by one all the books that he thought had anything to do with the spell.

For several hours, he was engulfed by his new quest. His feelings for Faith since his resurrection had grown more and more intense with every passing day. They had culminated with this morning's shower. But Faith's revelation on his "dying bed" put everything in a new light. He had to know if what he felt was nothing more than a reflection of her relationship with Spike. The chemistry between them seemed to go beyond sexual attraction, even beyond the mystical bond they shared.

As it turned out, the spell wasn't all that complex. Its consequences, however, were rather immutable. He took off his glasses and started pacing around the office. He had to do something. He couldn't allow Faith and Spike to continue this sacrifice for him. Spike had gotten his soul back somehow. He'd be the one to ask.

He looked out the window. It was night already. When had he turned on the lights? He left the office in search of Spike.

The building seemed empty. No pitter-patter of little feet. Wesley sighed. He missed Alex. He wished he had had more time with the child. The closest thing he had to a son. He wondered if Faith was ever going to tell the boy about his almost-involvement in his conception. He realized with a sad smile that he wished she would. The thought went further on the idyllic path. Maybe they could give Alex a brother or a sister. He shook his head. No daydreaming for Wesley. He shouldn't lull himself into believing that Faith could feel something for the real him. Who knew how the darkness-created-Wesley had kept her tethered to him for all those years?

He couldn't find anyone around. The kitchen, the training area, the yard were all deserted. He made his way upstairs dreading the possibility that he might walk in of Faith and Spike.

A light came from beneath Faith's door. He knocked diffidently. She opened the door almost instantly.

"Oh, Wes," she said taken aback. "What's up? Come on in."

He followed her, happy to notice that her room retained no traces of the night she had been hurt. There was nothing vulnerable about the beautiful young woman in front of him.

"Nothing's up. I was just wondering where everyone was."

"Spike's on patrol. And I'm here," she informed him with half a curtsy.

The gesture reminded him of the days when she called him Princess Margaret.

"How's Alex?" he asked, finding no better topic.

"I talked to him an hour ago. He said he's having a good time. Xander said he's behaving himself."

Faith's face had lit from inside talking about her son. Wesley felt like he was basking in her smile.

"He's a great kid," he said.

"Yeah," she said looking at him.

"I'll leave you to... whatever it was you were doing," he said heading for the door again.

"There's something I have to tell you. Don't turn around, or I won't be able to go through with it," she said behind him.

Wesley stood, rooted to the spot. He was watching the door intently, waiting for her to speak again.

"I loved him. I know you're not him. Or he wasn't you. The thing is... I think I love you."

They both remained silent for a long time. Wesley tried to get under control the storm of feelings her declaration stirred inside him.

"I need to leave for a while," he said.

He didn't need to hear her sharp intake of breath to know he said something extremely stupid.

"I didn't mean," he turned around, trying to explain.

"That's all right," she said.

Her voice and her countenance were both cool and collected.

"Let me explain," he pleaded.

"Nothing to explain. You're a free agent. You can do whatever you want."

Her distant tone, and her casual words set him off. He grabbed her shoulders and pinned her to a wall. She cocked an eyebrow at him, reminding him that she could snap his arms like twigs. He seemed oblivious to the danger. His fingers were digging painfully into her flesh.

"But I don't know what I want, do I, Faith? Because I'M NOT REAL!" he yelled at her, the pressure of the last few days cracking his composure.

The raw emotion on her face told him he struck a nerve. Utmost among the kaleidoscope of feelings, Wesley saw fear. Her fear emboldened him. He could still get to her, touch her, cut her. Faith looking vulnerable was a greater turn on than he had ever imagined all those times he had imagined her in charge in bed. He felt like a shark who had just sensed blood in the water.

He kissed her, hard, not caring if he bruised her. All the cockiness had gone out of her, and this only increased his desire. She moaned faintly, and surrendered to the kiss. Before he was even aware of what he was doing, he had torn open Faith's shirt. He lowered his mouth to her breasts. The need to bite her, brand her somehow became desperate. Vampire, his brain whispered, making him pull back.

The sight of Faith, bare breasted, glassy eyed and panting made him insane with lust. He gathered forgotten shreds of his self control to take a step back.

"See what I mean?" he asked.

Faith was looking at him, incomprehensibly. He tried to clear his mind.

"I've never felt this way before. Never. About anyone. I feel like I'm burning. This isn't me. This is you and Spike. I'm made up of your souls. I don't know what's real anymore. Do **I** want you like that? Or is it just the part of Spike's soul that he's given me. I have to go and get back my soul. I want to give you your souls back."

"Go where?" she asked in a throaty whisper.

The sound of her voice kicked hard at Wesley's libido. He clenched his jaws, refusing to succumb to the tidal wave of lust.

"Wherever I have to. Spike managed to get his."

"It's dangerous," she said.

Wesley shrugged. He'd do the right thing, no matter how dangerous. He needed to know if he was real. If what he was feeling was real.

"Did you talk to Spike about this?"

"Not yet. I'm going to ask him when he gets back. He wasn't very forthcoming with information on this subject when he made his appearance at Wolfram and Hart."

"He's not forthcoming on the subject period."

"I daresay he'll talk to me now."

Faith was looking at him with deep sorrow.

"You don't think I can succeed, do you?" he asked, a little hurt.

"It's not that. I never thought about all the consequences of you sharing our souls. I'm wondering if you'll feel the same when you get your soul back."

"Worried if I'll feel the same, or if you will?" he asked tensely.

Wesley was nearing the breaking point of his control. Since Faith had kissed him he felt like she had lit the fuse to his lust.

"You're free, Wes. Truly. We brought you to life because we needed you. You shouldn't feel obligated to even like me."

"I like you," he said, stepping close to her again.

His eyes were darkened with a desire he seemed unable to control. Faith held his gaze unflinchingly. He leaned over to her. He brushed his lips against hers.

"I'm not going to take what you're not willing to give me," she whispered.

Wesley pushed his whole body into hers. He put her hand over the bulging front of his trousers.

"Willing. Able. Eager," he said, nibbling at her lower lip.

She parted her lips for him. His tongue snuck into her mouth at the same time as her hand began rubbing him over the fabric. Wesley fisted a hand in her hair, angling her head for better access to her mouth. His other hand cupped her breast. He was rolling a nipple between thumb and forefinger until she arched into him. When she did, he thrust into her palm.

"You'll regret doing this," she said, breathing heavily.

"I'll die if I don't," he told her.

He stripped every piece of clothing off her body, getting harder with every inch of skin he uncovered, and kissed. He was aware that once he had his soul back, he might not feel the same about her, he might regret yielding to temptation. It didn't stop him. He had never felt such all-consuming lust.

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_To be continued..._


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters or the setting of the story. All things I borrowed from the Buffyverse are a creation of and belong to Joss Whedon.

**Timeline**: more than 9years after NFA ("Angel"), 10 after "Chosen" (BtVS)

A special thanks to Sebrina, who helped me get the chapter going with some inspired bit of RPing.

Beta: Rachael

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**Chapter 14**

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Wesley kept her pasted to the wall, not allowing her to move except for the minimal assistance necessary in the smooth removal of her clothes. He was now on his knees in front of her, still holding the last piece of clothing he had taken off. He looked at the sock in his right hand, somehow regretting he had to let it drop to the floor. He held her ankle in his left hand, unwilling to let her foot down. He felt the shiver run through Faith as he ran his fingers along her calf. For some strange reason he couldn't bring himself to look up at her. His beautiful, naked, eager goddess. 

She ran her fingers through his hair. There was a feel of inevitability to the touch. Any second now, she was going to make him look at her. She was going to say something, anything would do, and he would have to look up. If he looked up, she wouldn't be there, because this couldn't be real. Nothing that felt like this could be real. If he looked up, she would vanish, leaving him clutching at thin air.

"Oh, God, Wes," she whispered.

There it was, her voice, throaty, needing him, wanting him. Like pouring gasoline on a roaring fire. When he led her foot toward the floor his nails dug into her ankle, causing her to let out a soft yelp and clutch at his hair. He lowered his head, relishing the pain as his hair was pulled out of her fists. He bowed his head lower, all the way to the ground to kiss the half moon marks he had left on her skin.

_'This isn't me. This isn't me! This isn't me!'_ he wanted to scream. He didn't. It felt too bloody right to spoil. Even for the sake of the almighty truth.

He started to kiss his way up her leg. He still couldn't look up. He kissed his way up blindly, waiting for her touch, waiting to be high enough so her fingers would touch his head again.

"Mm, Wes..." she said, almost purring

"Christ, this has got to be real," he whispered, pressing a side of his face into her belly while her hands were roaming through his hair and along the back of his neck. He ran his hands along her sides, not daring to venture again over her breasts.

When she moaned his name, her body seemed to vibrate, calling for him. He was so tempted to nudge her legs further apart to taste her before opening his eyes. He knew that he could make the fantasy last longer if he just didn't try to see her eyes.

He looked up at her. She was still there, her eyes, mercifully closed, her mouth forming his name, in so soft a whisper he could barely hear it. She wanted him. She wanted more. He wanted more.

He stood up abruptly, pressing his body into hers. She gasped wrapping her arms around him instinctively. It felt oddly right to be fully clothed, while she was naked, and all the more vulnerable for it, her soft skin finding only coarse fabric, making her relish even more the feel of his hands, smooth by comparison.

Her fingers were playing with the hair at the back of his head, and she started to nuzzle into his neck. Her lips felt soft and warm against his skin. She hadn't chosen the scarred side of his neck. His brain managed to work out that she probably didn't want him to see her as a copycat of Lilah's. Wolfram and Hart had tremendous details in their files. Faith must have studied them enough in the years he had been out of her life. He growled uncontrollably when she found a particularly sensitive spot on his neck.

"Please," she whispered.

It was so tempting to undo his trousers freeing himself just enough to take her like that, against the wall.

_"Please."_

He suddenly needed to see the want in her eyes. Eyes. Windows to the soul. The soul. Spike!

_"She's a part of me. I can feel almost everything she feels. It doesn't work all that well the other way round, but it still made us conduct out 'recreational activities' as far from one another as possible."_

The memory of Spike's words startled him to some degree of lucidity.

He pulled her head roughly away from his neck. God, how he loved having her silky hair in his fist! He almost lost it again when she looked at him through heavy lidded eyes. Eager? Frustrated? Desperate for release? He hoped she was, because he was teetering on the edge of it all.

He had to focus on her eyes, to get the words out. The sharp pain and the momentary decrease in the intensity of his touches were probably drawing her out of the lust haze.

"Spike, can probably feel this even if he were in Alaska! I can whip up a barrier to shield us. Temporarily. I'm pretty far gone not to care, but if you want privacy, I'll try to do something about your connection."

He couldn't believe he had managed to get all the words out. He braced himself against the urge to lower his mouth to her breasts. She needed a little respite to make her choice and answer him.

"Privacy," she said.

He grinned with mingled approval and frustration at her choice. Frustration for postponing their release. Approval because the barrier would give them the leisure to explore each other thoroughly. Before he left. Not a good time to think about that.

He threaded his fingers through her hair, looking in her eyes, unwilling to tear himself from her, but at least trying not to go any further. Despite himself, Wesley drew his head nearer to her, until their lips were almost touching again.

"You should call his cell. If I'm successful, he's going to worry when he doesn't feel you," he gritted his teeth a little when he said that, hating to admit the existence of such a powerful bond between Faith and her vampire. "We wouldn't want him to hurry home to see what happened, would we?"

Faith moved her head the half inch that still separated them. He didn't find the strength to break the kiss again. She had to push him away a few minutes later.

"The barrier. Please," she said, panting.

"Wicked girl," Wesley said, but he disentangled himself from her embrace, not before running his fingers briefly across her inner thigh.

Faith startled, letting out a soft whimper that made him smile satisfied. Wesley went to the bed to get a sheet to drape around her. He couldn't leave the room with the image of her naked body, flushed with desire. He hurried out, but before he closed the door behind him, he turned around.

"I shouldn't be too long, but if I'm not back in a few minutes, don't start without me."

He felt the door yanked out of his hand, and found himself again in Faith's arms. She kissed him fiercely before pushing him away and slamming the door shut.

"Hurry up!" she told him through the closed door.

Wesley made his way into the office in a daze. He was sexually aroused, but this fact in itself was not unprecedented. It was Faith's reactions, the intensity of her desire that were bewildering. He wondered briefly what her conversation with Spike might sound like. From what the vampire had said, they had never had to deal with this sort of situation, so presumably they didn't have a code phrase for it.

He laughed when he saw his hands were trembling as he took some books off the shelves. He flipped through the pages as fast as his blurred vision allowed. Wesley found it highly amusing that he was forced into an intellectual activity while his blood was now routed away from his brain. He was opening a second book when Faith came in the office, still wrapped in the white sheet.

"He said he nearly drove the car into a ditch when we started," she answered Wesley's raised eyebrow.

"Hmm," he said, returning his eyes to the book, faking disinterest. "When do you think that was?" he asked.

"Oh, I'd think around the time you first kissed me, tore off my shirt and started playing with my breasts," she said, matching his tone in fake indifference while she perched herself casually on the desk, next to the book.

The letters were doing a mad jig on the page in front of him, but he refused to show her the full measure of the effect her words were having on him.

"What else did he say?" he asked, without looking away from his book while groping absentmindedly for a corner of the sheet and tugging at it once he found it.

"Umm, he said... that... you should... either... hurry up... with the barrier... or get... the job... done... sooon."

Wesley kept his fingers busy on and between her legs, and his face straight all along Faith's broken recounting of her conversation with Spike. She could barely get the words out, but never drew away from his touch or asked him to stop. His caresses had been feather light over her knees, her thighs, then they had gotten more and more daring with every hitched breath she let out. He had just taken his hand away when she had moaned the last word, _sooon_.

"And do you concur with that?" he asked, amazed of his ability to keep up the appearance of iron self control when he was at breaking point.

"You, bastard," Faith said.

She stood up and wrapped the sheet tighter around her body.

"Give me a damn book!" she demanded.

He gave her one of the manuscripts he had not yet looked through, carefully not looking at her, well aware of the danger that rested in catching more than a glimpse of the sheet.

"Got it!" he exclaimed ten minutes and two books later.

Wesley jumped to his feet and went, book in hand, to the cabinet where they kept most of the magical ingredients.

Faith joined him next to the cabinet, the warmth of her body seeping into him, causing the man to close his eyes in an attempt to steady himself.

"Here, I'll hold the book," she offered.

"Bloody hell," he muttered when he noticed the sheet falling off her shoulder as she reached to take the book from him.

He took another look at the page and started to take the necessary spell components doing his best to ignore the flurry of fantasies he suddenly had about the hands holding the book. They both hurried back to her bedroom, Faith still holding the book, and Wesley with an armful of small boxes and bottles.

She climbed into bed while Wesley started to draw a circle a couple of feet away.

"The bed needs to be inside the circle. Could you please move it away from the wall?" he asked.

Faith sighed, got out of bed and pushed the headboard away from the wall with a single hand. He was considering that there were many benefits of having sex with a Slayer when Faith let the sheet fall to the floor, and all lighthearted thoughts melted away in a renewed wave of desire.

"This better work," he muttered, reaching for the book to read again the next step.

Faith was laying on her belly, holding the book in front oh her, open at the right page. Her demure attitude contrasted beautifully with the glimpse of her chest over the book that made sure he was aware of what was hidden behind the hard covers. Wesley traced the text with his fingers, further and further up until they left the paper and were trailing on her skin. He was tempted to push the book aside and run his palm down on her breast forgetting about the spell for a while.

"What's wrong, Wes? You lost your place? Do you want me to read you what you have to do?" she asked, in a sweet tone of false concern.

"I want you..." he said, letting his voice trail off while his hand was cupping her face.

"Yes?" she encouraged him to go on.

"Yes," he agreed rubbing a thumb over her cheek and a corner of her mouth.

Faith's voice was low and hesitant as she read aloud the rest of the steps for the creation of a protective circle. Wesley felt as if every whispered word was a caress on his skin. He only barely managed to follow her instructions without making any mistakes. He turned to look at her once he heard the book being slammed shut.

"Do you think this comes under the heading of safe sex?" she asked, with a twinkle of satisfaction in her eyes while his hungry gaze was sweeping all over her body.

The man didn't answer. He took off his shoes and his shirt letting everything fall inside the circle, then sat on the bed next to her to take off his socks. Before he stood up to take off his pants he took the book that Faith had forgotten on the pillow next to her. He let it drop by the bed when he felt her hands on his back.

He couldn't move for several long moments. He heard her crawl behind him on her knees. He felt the bed dip as she moved closer. When she pressed her breasts into his back and circled his torso with her arms, Wesley had to close his eyes. She was kissing his shoulder and neck, stopping for a while on his earlobe, then down again along his neck and shoulder, while her hands were roaming over his chest and abdomen, pausing from time to time to trace one scar or another.

_'How do I compare so far?'_ he wanted to ask.

"What if the circle doesn't work?" he asked instead.

Faith suddenly pulled away from him. Before he could protest or apologize or beg for her to come back, she was next to him, pushing him down on the bed and straddling his lap. Wesley smiled lightheaded with relief. He put his hands on her waist and waited for her to come down to him.

Their gazes remained locked while she lowered her head slowly toward him. When their lips finally met, it felt every bit as intense as if it were their first kiss. Wesley closed his eyes and let the perfection of the moment engulf him. He would never regret this. Whatever the result of the quest for his soul, he couldn't possibly regret that he had been blessed with the chance to feel something so beautiful.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters or the setting of the story. All things I borrowed from the Buffyverse are a creation of and belong to Joss Whedon.

**Timeline**: more than 9years after NFA ("Angel"), 10 after "Chosen" (BtVS)

**Beta**: Rachael

**Feedback **greatly appreciated. Please review!

* * *

**Chapter 15**

* * *

_"What if the circle doesn't work?" he asked instead. _

_Faith suddenly pulled away from him. Before he could protest or apologize or beg for her to come back, she was next to him, pushing him down on the bed and straddling his lap. Wesley smiled lightheaded with relief. He put his hands on her waist and waited for her to come down to him. _

_Their gazes remained locked while she lowered her head slowly toward him. When their lips finally met, it felt every bit as intense as if it were their first kiss. Wesley closed his eyes and let the perfection of the moment engulf him. He would never regret this. Whatever the result of the quest for his soul, he couldn't possibly regret that he had been blessed with the chance to feel something so beautiful._

Wesley put his fingertips on Faith's temples, then slid his fingers up into her hair. The thick silky curtain fell around their faces, isolating them from the world as effectively as the protective circle on the floor.

They were still kissing when he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her flush to his chest. The feel of her breasts rubbing against his skin was absolutely delicious. He put his other arm around her, pressing her into him.

Delicious and wonderful as the sensation was, Wesley was not satisfied with the position. Beyond his personal taste for being on top, he was well aware of her preference to ride. He wondered, not for the first time since he found out about his dark twin, how did Faith act around that man. He smiled thinking that if she knew him at all, and she must have from all the things she read about him, his twin must have had the same preferences.

He sat up straight, pushing Faith's torso up along with him. She gasped, startled by the movement but didn't fight him, only clung to his shoulders. Wesley groaned and let out a string of highly undignified curses at the pain. His body had been healed by the Mohra blood, but he still suffered the aftereffects of the injuries. He was also groaning at the exquisite feel of his hardness rubbing against Faith.

She was still straddling his thighs, while he leaned back into the kiss. He startled when he felt her hand sneaking between their bodies and wrap tightly around his erection.

"Naughty," he whispered.

"Eager," she corrected. "Checking to see if you were still willing and able," she said.

"Very much so. With one condition."

He pushed his upper body forward, making her bend over backwards. His arms supported her back while his head was buried in her breasts.

"What condition?" she asked, breathless.

His mouth was too busy sucking on her breast to answer. His mumbling sent vibrations over her skin, causing Faith to shudder. He sucked on her nipple harder, making Faith arch her chest into his mouth, and letting her head back, almost out of the circle, her hair flowing almost to the floor. She seemed to forget her question for a while.

Wesley put both hands firmly on her waist, and stood up. Faith yelped in surprise, her head snapped up, but she instinctively wrapped her legs around him. His fingers were digging almost painfully in her flesh, while she was holding on to him, arms around his shoulders, ankles locked behind him.

"The condition is," he said, beginning to turn to face the bed, "that I get to be on top," he finished.

As he spoke, he lowered her onto the bed as slowly as he could, but still not smoothly enough. She chuckled at the slightly awkward landing, but the expression soon became softer.

"Whatever rocks your world," she said.

Wesley marveled at her smile. She looked young and innocent.

"You think that's funny, sweetheart?" he asked, faking as serious a tone as he was capable.

"Shut up and kiss me," Faith said in a throaty voice that sent shivers through Wesley.

He felt the importance of the moment shatter the brief levity. They were really going to do this. They were tied to each other in so many ways, on so many strange levels, that there was no predicting what would happen when they physically came together. Their past, their souls, their son. Son!

"Faith, this may not be the best moment to bring this up, but do you think we should use some protection?"

"Are you trying to ruin the mood?" she asked, lifting herself on her elbows, pushing her chest into his.

Wesley coaxed her back to the mattress with a few well placed kisses and caresses.

"Thought I should ask. I wouldn't mind if Alex had a brother or a sister," he muttered indistinctly with his lips pressed against her neck.

"Oh, God, Wes," she whispered. "Not much chance of that, I'm afraid."

He lifted his head to look at her.

"Why?"

"I'm on the pill. After I had Alex... This is ridiculous," she said and looked away from him. "I feel like I had an affair with you for ten years and you don't know the first thing about me."

"It wasn't me, Faith. You know that," he said.

His voice was soft, as if he could heal her with his words. He caressed her hair, leaning closer to kiss her cheeks, her forehead, her eyes.

"I know," she whispered, holding him tight as he kissed her. "I guess I'm afraid."

He had expected this to come. She may have had feelings for him, once upon a time, a decade ago when he burst out of her subconscious and into a strange reality, she may even have started liking him once resurrected, but love, that she had only felt for the other him.

"Can't have that. The Slayer can't be afraid of her Watcher. I'm going to do something about it that used to get Watchers in very deep and life-impairing trouble," he told her, amazed of his ability to hide his anxiety so well that his voice could actually sound playful.

"What's that?" she asked.

Her tone was lighter. He could still feel her shiver against him, but, ever the warrior, willing to fight her fear.

"Oh, it's a very complicated, ancient ritual. It involves dizzying you with kisses," he said, proceeding to demonstrate.

"And then?" she barely managed to whisper, much to Wesley's delight.

"And then... when you're just about out of breath... "

He stopped talking. Wesley kept her prisoner in a long, breathtaking kiss while he positioned himself at her entrance, and began sliding in. He didn't stop when he felt her tensing as if she was about to push him off her. He kept kissing her and sliding inside her as her nails dug into his shoulders. He went on, deeper and deeper in her body and in her heart. He felt his very self melting with her in a way that transcended physical pleasure.

Faith moaned when he was completely sheathed inside her, making his heart melt in his chest. He watched emotions play over her face. The anxiety, not completely gone, was pushed aside by joy, desire, pleasure. And maybe, if he could judge from his own experience, maybe love.

"Still afraid, my Chosen one?" he asked beginning to move in and out of her.

The pace was still slow, all urgency seemed to have transformed inside him. He was still burning, but he no longer needed to put out the fire. He wanted to kindle the flames even more, so that they'd both be consumed by it.

"So much," she answered him. "Afraid so much. Love you so much," she said, slipping the words out between kisses and moans.

"I love you too, Faith. I wouldn't be here otherwise," he said.

It shocked him to realize it was true. He had said it to be kind, to make the moment perfect, to help her heal from losing a man she had loved for ten years.

A few minutes later, they came, together and wordlessly, no longer able to express their passion.

There were no more words for the next few hours.

* * *

They were lying in each other's arms, tired, but unwilling to fall sleep. 

"Care to fill me in on the past ten years? Some things that weren't in that nice and very professional file you gave me when I came back?" he asked, caressing her thigh lazily.

"Not really. For some reason my mind's not working very well right now," she said, snuggling closer.

"Liar," he admonished and slapped her hip playfully.

Faith pressed her face into his chest, and peppered a few kisses on his skin before she started talking.

"As far as I know, out here, I still can't have children. I started on the pill for him. I was afraid to have another child with someone like him. Alex is a miracle, but I'm still afraid he's not completely human."

Wesley pulled her closer, kissing her forehead and caressing her hair.

"Whatever he is, he's our son. You have the DNA results to prove it," he said. "I can't help wishing I was more involved in conceiving him," he added with a smile.

He felt her relax a little, so he kept caressing her, and talking to her, trying to soothe her worries, partly to lay his own fears to rest.

"We'll deal with everything when I come back. You'll see, everything is going to be fine. We'll talk to Alex together. Explain him about his miraculous conception. He's an amazing kid. He will understand. And if it's in the cards, we'll have more children. If not, we'll always have a bunch of Slayers to raise."

"If you still love me when you get your soul back," she said.

"Can't imagine not loving you," he told her.

"I can. You, he didn't always love me. Every time I went in that cave, it was different. The first time, he was like you were when I last saw you in L.A., after Angelus and the Beast. But sometimes you were young like in Sunnydale, other times you were depressed and angry and you hated me. Then there were times when you were the rogue demon hunter, or the man who kept a slave girl in his closet, or... It was never the same, and yet it was always you."

Wesley listened to her in silence. That was not the way he imagined it. He thought his likeness in the cave had been created by Faith's subconscious, and then evolved from one visit to the next. He imagined her having something close to a real relationship. What Faith said worried him a little. He could compete with one of him, but with a whole cast of his copies?

"I'll never hate you. This much I know," he assured her.

She clung to him tightly

"You be sure to come back. The rest, you're right, the rest we'll deal with when you come back."

* * *

Sometime later... 

Wes went to the kitchen desperate for a tea, not sure if it was night or day. When he was at the door he heard the noise of china and tensed up. He had no weapons, and no time to get any.

"Come on in. Tea's ready."

Spike's voice. Wesley entered the kitchen wondering if it hadn't been better to have been some demonic intruder. He sat down at the table watching the vampire pouring him a cup of tea.

"Thanks," Wesley said.

"My pleasure," Spike answered with a grin.

Wesley cocked an eyebrow at him questioningly. Why the hell could the vampire be grinning about? He hadn't managed to shower, so Spike was probably amused by the mixed scent. Could there be anything else? Wesley's mind was too clouded to make much headway.

He tried to ignore the neon bright grin under the neon bright hair, but found it impossible.

"What is it?"

Spike wriggled his eyebrows, and his smile took on a more worrying nuance.

"As the Yanks put it, you got game!" the vampire said.

"No. No, no, no," Wesley said, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "No, you didn't. Tell me you didn't."

"It was quite a performance. I don't know if I want to shag you or her right now."

"Jesus!" Wesley exclaimed. "Why the hell didn't you call to tell us the circle wasn't working? That was the deal."

"First of all, it worked for a while," Spike said, and sobered up a little. "Felt like she was gone, in that damn cave again."

"But it stopped working," Wesley completed his sentence.

Spike looked him with an indecipherable expression before he spoke again.

"What did you expect? It was like trying to cover a nuclear blast with a paper bag. I knew that whatever you two shared was strong, but that..."

"Yes. That was..." Wesley agreed, equally lost for words. "I love her, you know."

Spike nodded. Wesley wondered how much the vampire had felt.

"I want to do the right thing. By both of you. I need to get my soul back."

"And you want Spike to tell you all about it?" Spike asked wryly.

"Yes, please," Wesley played along.

The vampire chuckled, pleased. Wesley had the strange and aberrant sensation that the man in front of him was in fact in his mid twenties.

Wesley listened attentively to Spike's tale of how he got his soul back. It didn't sound like a day in the park, but not impossible.

"Thank you," Wesley said, when the story was over and the vampire stood up to leave. "And, Spike," Wesley stopped him, "Thank you for not calling."

"Anytime, mate."

* * *

There wasn't much left to say. In the cold morning light, Faith and Wesley said their goodbyes. 

"I love you."

"Come back."

"I'll come back."

"I love you."

"Do you always have to have the last word?"

"Do you?"

"I..."

She silenced him with a kiss.

He would be back, Wesley told himself to keep his heart from breaking as he drove away. He would come back from the dead for her.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters or the setting of the story. All things I borrowed from the Buffyverse are a creation of and belong to Joss Whedon.

**Timeline**: more than 9years after NFA ("Angel"), 10 after "Chosen" (BtVS)

**Beta**: Rachael

**Feedback **greatly appreciated. Please review!

Sorry it took so long and it's such a short chapter. I intend to have both this story and "Dawn's Fine" finished by the end of the year.

* * *

**Chapter 16**

* * *

For the first few weeks, Wesley phoned them every day. The deeper he got into the mountains, the less frequently he managed to find a phone, coverage for his cell or electricity to recharge it. Two months after he had left, the phone calls stopped.

He began writing Faith long letters, never sending any. The day Wesley found the shaman and he convinced him to lead him to the trial grounds, he wrote the last two letters. The letter to Alex was the most awkward thing he ever wrote, but even so, he couldn't afford to discard it. He was running out of time. He couldn't think of the boy as anything other than his son, and he wanted his son to have something from him.

Wesley took a long pause after writing to Alex. He frowned, his gaze lost in the distance wondering if he had the right to insert himself in the boy's life. He put the letter in an envelope, wrote "for Alex" on it, and left it unsealed. It had to be Faith's choice.

He took out another sheet of paper, preparing himself for opening his heart again. At least he knew what he had to tell Faith.

_My darling Faith, _

_Please forgive me for failing you. You have to believe me that I go into the trials with the utmost determination to come back to you. When I left, we both knew that there was a chance that despite my most arduous efforts, I'll die. Again. _

_There are no doubts in my heart and in my mind that I belong by your side. I love you, Faith. I need you to understand that because I love you, I could never accept the second chance you've given me while the fate of your immortal soul remained uncertain. You deserve all I can give you._

_If you're reading this letter – yes, I had to say it – it means that I did not succeed in the trials. I'll leave this letter with instructions to be sent to you. Time may pass differently over there, so chances are that the trials will last quite a while. _

_You have to know that even if I failed, you and Spike have your souls back. There are no words to express adequately the depth of my gratitude for what you two did for me. The least I could do was bargain my soul for yours. Last week I made a bargain with Wolfram and Hart. If I pass the trials, I have my soul back, and you have yours, no strings attached. If I fail the trials, you get your souls back, and the Senior Partners get mine. _

_Which brings me to the most difficult part of this letter. It must be hard for you to hear this, but as soon as you get this letter you must assume that if I come back, I am an agent of evil. It is not something I advise easily, but, my darling Faith, you have to be prepared to kill me. There are a variety of forms I may appear to you in, so you have to get creative. _

_When the time comes, I'll face my death with one imperative burning in me brighter than anything else. To come back to you. One way or another, I'll find my way back. Please, don't add to my sins by allowing me to harm you. _

_There is a chance, a slim one, but a chance nonetheless, that I come out of the trials victorious after you get this letter. To avoid an unfortunate accident, you should contact a White Coven to give you a way to distinguish whether I am there of my own free will or an agent of evil. _

_I want to be yours, body and soul, of my own free will. This is the reason why I go into the trials confident in victory. I want nothing more than to believe that you'll never read this letter. If you do, I want you to know two things. I love you. And you shouldn't waste the rest of your life waiting for me. I am both jealous and proud that you spent ten years in love with me, because I do believe that whatever your mind created in the cave was a very good replica of me. I'm not saying that you should forget me, in any of the forms you've known me. I'm sure that having our son around will make this impossible in any case. I wish I were there, helping you raise him. I wish I could spend the rest of my life with you. _

_The sun will be setting soon. I have to finish this letter that has no way to contain all the things I wanted to tell you. You know I'm not a man of few words, but I'll have to make do. _

_Please read the other letter and give it to Alex when you think it is appropriate._

_Thank you for giving me the chance for this new life and new love. _

_Forever yours, _

_Wesley Wyndham-Pryce_

He put the letters in an envelope, sealed it, and wrote Faith's name. He then proceeded to put it in another envelope along with the letter he had written to Alex, and a short note for Spike.

_If I show up unexpectedly, give Faith the letters immediately. If I don't show up in a month from the day you received this envelope, give her the letters. _

_W. Wyndham-Pryce_

On the outer envelope he wrote, William T. B. Pratt, and Faith and Spike's address.

Wesley's hand was trembling slightly when he gave the envelope to his guide. He gave the man the necessary instructions. He hoped that the letter was going to reach Spike very soon, and that his trust in the vampire was not misplaced. His first idea was to leave the simple instructions of sending the letter if he did not return to the village in a week or a month, but he had realized that if he failed, he might very well return as a pawn of Wolfram and Hart and take the letter back leaving Faith no warning.

Wesley walked into the trials unarmed and with no provisions. He had only his mind as a weapon and his love as shield.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any of the characters or the setting of the story. All things I borrowed from the Buffyverse are a creation of and belong to Joss Whedon.

**Timeline**: more than 9years after NFA ("Angel"), 10 after "Chosen" (BtVS)

**Beta: Rachael – thank you for the constant support!**

**Feedback – **yes, please! Lots and lots!

* * *

**Chapter 17**

* * *

It was raining heavily when Wesley emerged from the trial grounds. The sky was so leaden he couldn't even guess the time of the day. By the time he reached the village, he was drenched to the skin.

The hot tea was all the more welcome for that. He looked at the black box of Fortnum and Mason's Royal Blend asking the necessary questions. He was unpleasantly surprised to hear that almost six months had passed since his trial started. He listened in awe that about a month after he left, presumably a month since Spike received the letter, Faith came to the village looking for him. Wesley savoured his favourite tea that was a heart-warming proof of Faith's presence. He smiled, thanking her mentally for the kindness. She turned out a wonderful person. Who could have guessed it all those years ago? Not him, certainly.

He still loved her. He could remember the physical attraction all the way back since she was sixteen and the bane of his existence, the ruin of his career. He could remember what making love to her felt. So the lust was still in place. No shock there. He'd been diffident about the rest. He'd walked in the trials afraid that he would walk out with his soul, but without the strange new love. He still loved her though. More passionately than before. This time, with his old soul back, he felt the full wonder of her, Faith, the vampire Slayer, loving someone like him. If she still loved him. The possibility that her feelings changed in the months he'd been out of her life again made his gut twist.

Faith's consideration had extended beyond the tea box. She left a mobile phone and a credit card for him.

Wesley picked up the phone without hesitation. He may have been out of this world for half a year, and that after being dead for a decade, but he not going to just sneak in on Faith. The woman had crossed the ocean as soon as she read his letter... His letter. His letters! He asked his host about the bundle of letters he left with the shaman before entering the trial. The man confirmed his suspicion. When Faith visited, she took the letters. His passionate, and uncensored love letters. He sighed. She read everything else he ever wrote, no surprise she ended up reading the love letters she inspired.

The voice at the other end of the line was feminine, familiar, but not Faith's. It sounded like Miranda, but Wesley didn't feel right about letting her know who he was. He affected an English accent very similar to Spike's when he spoke.

"'lo, there. Can you fetch Spike for me, luv? Tell 'im 'is old mate Percy's callin;."

Wesley shuddered at this cruel and unnecessary chopping of consonants from his beloved language. He waited for the vampire to come on, wondering why he hadn't asked for Faith.

"Percy me old mucker, what's goin' on?"

"Hello, Spike. It's Wesley," he said in his normal voice. "I know it's late, but I wanted to let you know I'm back. Do whatever you need to do to make sure it's really me. Tell Faith... tell Faith I'm coming home."

"Right mate. You all right?"

The vampire sounded like he expected Wesley's call, which shouldn't surprise him, since he warned them in the letter that he would come back. Him or a semblance of himself. Spike also sounded earnestly concerned. A vampire with a soul. A champion. Not the sort of thing he ever expected to encounter when he read the old vampires' chronicles in the Academy.

"Yes. That credit card Faith left for me is still valid?"

"Yeah."

"Then I'll call from the airport to tell you what flight I'm taking."

* * *

The journey back took no more than two days, but it seemed to Wesley longer than all the months he spent looking for his soul. He rented a car and drove home.

Home. Home was Faith and Alex. With a little effort, the concept of home included even Spike. He readied himself for an apprehensive reception from his strange family, and whatever young Slayers were around. What he did not expect was to find the house empty. Almost empty. He followed the noises and found her in the training room.

"Hello, Faith."

She cocked her head to the side looking at him in silence.

"Is this wise? Receiving me alone? Might not be safe," he said to fill the silence.

He was glad to be alone with her, but at the same time he worried that she appeared to be careless. He could be a badass demon under the guise of good old Wes.

"If it's not you, I'd rather be alone," she said. "Didn't want any witnesses to killing a Wesley shaped beastie."

Wesley swallowed a knot. It would be too much, too cruel a destiny to go through the damn trials only to die at Faith's hand.

"Would it help if I said it's really me?" he asked.

He was keeping his voice level, treating this situation as a lesson for his Slayer. He saw so much more in her than his Slayer though. He held back a smile at the thought that there were many things he wanted to teach Faith.

Faith was still looking at him with an expression he couldn't read. She came closer, but he knew better than making any movements. He watched her, entranced, as if he saw her for the first time. She was so beautiful. Her features barely softened with the years. Enough to be able to call her beautiful, not just hot. There still was something fierce, untamed, undaunted, burning under all the world-weariness.

Wesley felt her breath on his neck, on his cheek, on his lips. He closed his eyes, waiting. Her arms closed around his shoulders at the same time he felt her lips on his. He dared to put his hands on her hips lightly, still unsure if he should move.

"Do you still love me, Wes?"

Her lips brushed against his mouth as she spoke. His heart was pounding furiously. He could not predict her reaction. He could not think what was the right thing to say, the Wes-answer she expected. He let out the truth in a whisper.

"Yes."

He wanted to ask her the same question when he felt metal on his skin. So, she had not been incautious. He did not struggle when he felt the thorn protruding from her ring piercing his skin. She had just opened his jugular. He wondered dazedly if Spike taught her or it was her experience with Angelus. Unlike Justine's inexpert slash, this wound could kill him very fast. He was the kind of man who would always look for answers. His heartbeat was slowing down while he wondered what kind of a magic device Faith used to determine he's evil, and why didn't she just shoot an arrow through his heart. He was so sure he had won. Maybe he hadn't and this was the only way the monster, whatever kind of monster he was, could be killed.

The seconds seemed to stretch into forever. He felt her arms around him, and thought it wasn't a bad way to die. It was even better than the last time because now it wasn't a lie, she was real. His Faith. He looked into her eyes until the silent darkness took over him.

When he opened his eyes she was still there, still holding him in her arms, but they were on the floor. She was looking at him with barely contained amusement. He didn't get a chance to wonder if she resurrected him again because unlike that time he was still hurting. He winced and put his hand over his neck. There was a bandage there.

"You're full of surprises, arentcha? I thought you had no sense of drama whatsoever," Faith said.

"What happened?" he asked, but he could guess the answer.

"I had to make sure it was you. The Wiccas gave me this ring, I had to draw blood from you. If the stone turned red, I should've killed you. The stone remained blue, and then, I don't know how to tell ya, but... you fainted. In a very manly fashion, of course," she added with a grin.

He couldn't help smiling back.

"Men do not faint. I passed out, from blood loss and hunger, most likely."

"Didn't like the airplane food huh? Well, I can fix you one of those Chutney sandwiches you like so much," she said moving to stand up.

"Don't go," he said hurriedly, holding on to her. "Food can wait."

Faith looked at him, all amusement drained from her features. He could see now the depth of her emotional turmoil. She had been ready to kill him if she needed to, but he could see now how much it cost her to prepare for that eventuality.

"You'll need your strength," she said.

She spoke softly, trying to sound light-hearted. She didn't resist when Wesley pulled her closer.

"I love you, Faith. It's not the same mad, wild passion from before. That was your nature, and Spike's. But now I can say that I love you with all my soul."

The sight of her eyes sparkling with tears unsettled Wesley. He brushed his fingers lightly over her cheek, then threaded them in her hair.

"I'd understand if you don't feel the same. Not the end of the world," he said, trying to sound convincingly calm while his heart was breaking.

"It's all so different. I never felt like this before. The way I loved you, with half of my soul... was just a reflection of what I felt for... you know... him. And then there was the bond with Spike adding its own twist..."

"There was? What happened?"

Faith shrugged.

"Time is so strange. We got our souls back months ago. We thought you were dead. Again," she added with a smile. "We realized we had to grow up. We talked about it and decided that the ones we love shouldn't put up with our bond."

"The ones you love..." he echoed her words.

"Yeah. Spike made his amends. They're working things out. It's complicated..."

"And you?" he asked, keeping his voice steady.

"You said, in your letter..."

"Oh, yes... I'll leave if you want me to, but I'd like to spend some times with Alex."

"Leave?!" she exclaimed.

"I thought you found someone. You believed I was dead, and I did say in my letter that you should..."

"Oh, no, you don't!" she interrupted him. "It's not enough that you keep dying on me, now you're going to leave me because of some stupid soap operatic misunderstanding? I love you, you stupid idiot, and I'm demanding every damn thing you wrote in the other letters."

He pulled her to his chest.

"I'm an old man, Faith. I might not measure up to your expectations."

"Don't you dare bring age into this!" she said, her words coming out muffled in against his chest. "I'm almost caught up with you, with you being dead now and then. You've been out of my life for too freaking long, Wes," she said, hugging him painfully tight.

"You look just the same as the first time I set eyes on you. I can't imagine ever shaking the feeling that I'm robbing the cradle when I'm with you."

"Flattery will get you everywhere," she said, and he felt her smiling.

"Good to know. I mean it though. You look like Alex's sister, not his mother."

"I keep hearing guys referring to me as MILF."

"Well, I'd certainly LF you. But you're disqualified for looking too damn young."

"You're deficient," she said, playfully accusing.

"I'm happy," he answered, pulling her into a kiss.

Faith settled on top of him, and the kiss turned into a tussle on the floor of the training room.

"I can tell," she said with a smirk straddling him.

Wesley groaned at the sweet pressure on his groin. He bucked under her, rubbing himself against her. His hands roamed over her back, pressing her into him and learning her every curve.

"Faith?"

"Yes?"

"You know I can deal with you being the hero in our relationship?"

"Mmm," she purred agreement kissing his neck.

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her flush to him, and rolled on top of her.

"When it comes to sex, I get to be on top."

Faith gasped but didn't challenge him. He was wondering about this easy victory when she answered his unspoken question.

"Plenty of time to argue this, lover. I missed you too much, for too long. Let's make the most of having the place to ourselves."

"Yes," Wesley agreed. "We should make the most of our time together."

* * *

The End

(unless I feel like adding another chapter, smut only)


End file.
